I’m sure that my morning commute is meant to teach me something. Patience, perhaps? In reality, though, all I learn are new combinations of colorful “sentence enhancers.”
swearing
Shakespearean Swearing
I’m no professor of linguistics, but I do understand that language evolves over time. Pick up a copy of Canterbury Tales or Satyricon and try to tell me you understand every phrase in there. What I didn’t think too much about until recently is that this constant updating, re-purposing, and hijacking of words and phrases applies to cursing, too.
An article I read recently went into great detail about the role that profanity played in the Elizabethan Era. How it was aligned closely with divinity (the word “God” being used in many of the harsher swears of the time) and of course social status.
It’s a very informative read and I got a lot out of it, but the part that really stuck out to me was the very first paragraph which reads:
“In Henry IV, Part One, Shakespeare’s Hotspur turns on his prissy wife: “Heart! You swear like a comfit-maker’s wife. ‘Not you in good sooth!’ and ‘as true as I live!’” Instead Hotspur demanded a good mouth-filling oath. Something like his own “By God’s heart” was more suited to a lady of rank.”
Shakespeare, you know how to write a good story, I’ll give you that. And you’re phenomenal at coming up with new words. But, you’re one sexist bastard. I am more than aware that misogyny isn’t a new trend that just recently popped up, yet that passage by Shakespeare had me shaking my damn head. Leave it to a medieval patriarch to think that his wife needs to improve the language she uses and then offer up suggestions. He’s literally trying to put words in her mouth!
And I’ll admit, I had to look up just what the hell a comfit-maker was because while it sounded familiar, I couldn’t put my finger on it. Turns out that’s just a fancy way of saying candy maker. Back in Shakespeare’s times comfit-makers were the people who made little confections out of dried fruits and nuts that would then be used in desserts… nonpareils, sugar plums, candied almonds, hundreds and thousands (aka sprinkles or jimmies) and the like.
To be honest, being a comfit-maker’s wife doesn’t sound like a bad gig. Sure, if I were living back in the 1600s and was hitched to one of them, I probably wouldn’t be too well off financially. Or socially for that matter. I mean, how much can a bag of candied almonds bring in really? But still, I’d have all the candy I could eat. More importantly, I’d be able to curse however I wanted. Except if it got me sent to the stockades. You gotta watch out for the stockades.
I swear…
Have you seen the prices of movies these days? I mean, have you seen them? I suppose there are some places in the country where you can get into a matinee pretty inexpensively…but where I live that is not the case. A matinee ticket costs $10. A matinee!
That doesn’t sound expensive to you? Well, factor in the cost of a drink and some buttered popcorn – must haves for the movie-going experience with your daughter, let’s say, and all of a sudden you’re spending more than the GDP of many small countries.
In 2015 and 2016 there are a ton of movies coming out – especially Marvel Comic movies which happen to be our personal favorites – like another Avengers, Ant Man, Doctor Strange, and another Captain America….not to mention Deadpool (YAY!!), Woman in Black 2, Kingsman: The Secret Service, Jurassic World, Suicide Squad, and X-Men Apocalypse. The list just goes on and on.
I want to see them all, but I’m shuddering at the cost and 2015 isn’t even here yet!
Last night, my kids and I were sitting around talking about such things as the Marvel Universe and trying to figure out a way for us to afford to go to all of these movies. We had what seemed like a brilliant idea – we’d start a slush fund of some sort so we’d have money saved up for when the movies came out.
But just how would we fund this slush fund?
We adjourned and went our separate ways promising to think about it… as I was leaving the room my eye caught sight of a cat in a precarious position in a spot where it knew damn well it didn’t belong. Without thinking (as so often happens), I let loose a loud verbal assault on said cat that included a few choice unprintable words (my mother reads this blog after all).
And a somewhat sarcastic, somewhat serious light bulb went off above my head.
“A ha!” I said. “How about a Swear Jar? Every time one of us swears, a dollar goes into the Swear Jar. By the time Avengers Age of Ultron is released, we’ll have a tidy sum.”
I have to admit that the language in our house is less than nice and sometimes…just sometimes…sounds like a sailor’s convention (if there ever were such things).
Of course my kids laughed but they too immediately saw the pure genius behind this plan, because, after all, they do live here and therefore know that if walls could talk…well…ours would definitely be censored.
Our celebration over this clever fundraising idea was short lived however once reality reared its ugly head. I mean, let’s face it, when all is said and done, given the frequency with which we’d be paying, we’d just end up having to borrow money from the swear jar to pay the swear jar.
Needless to say, we’re working on a new plan.
Language Barriers
It’s about time I turn this blog back to another aspect of parenting that I’ve thought a lot about. And, as we’ve already seen in the past, it is quite possible that what I believe to be acceptable might inch me ever closer to the “bad” parent label in the eyes of some. So…what am I talking about?
Cursing. Cussing. Swearing. Profanities. Obscenities. Bad words. No-nos. It goes by different names depending on who you are, but you get the gist of it.
I’ll be upfront and say that, as a parent, I don’t tend to get upset when my kids say something R-rated. Sure, if they turn into George Carlin at the dinner table I’ll tell them that it’s time to dial it down, but only due to the assault on my ears and subsequent headache it gives me. I can tell when they’re cursing just for the hell heck of it and when that happens it just comes off as tacky. That’s what I really object to, I suppose. Language should be used with beauty at all times and sometimes the right F-bomb really gets the point across. But machine gun spraying the word around for no reason is disrespectful to verbiage itself. As if I’m one to talk (I can see my family rolling their eyes now)….but we won’t get into that.
I don’t mind them cursing (and for the sake of reminding everyone, my daughter is 14 and my son 21, we’re not talking toddlers here), because, for starters, they’re intelligent kids. I know this. It’s not like they can’t think of a better word or are only capable of lifting expressions from the last Seth Rogen film they saw. No, they have an amazing vocabulary and excellent communication skills — so if they use a curse word, I assume it’s because that’s the best way to represent the feelings they’re trying to express. Fair enough.
Secondly, they’re smart enough to know to calm their tongues way down when around positions of authority (oh wait, isn’t that what a parent is supposed to be…we’ll get back to that another day) and in inappropriate places. My daughter would never give an oral book report on Pride and Prejudice and litter the essay with profanities. Nor would my son ever make liberal use of the word shit in front of his grandparents. They both know where and when…and in front of me, it’s fine. Why?
That brings us to our third point and one that might be most up to debate. To me, curse words are just that…words. The only reason they have power is because people decided they mean something. But they don’t mean much to me. I refuse to recognize the profound implications of a one syllable word. I understand that not everyone shares these beliefs and I respect that. I certainly am not spilling offensive remarks all over town unaware of how others perceive the words.
Showing respect for the “audience” to whom one is speaking is paramount. I’m just saying that when hit with a cuss word, there really is no effect. I don’t vibrate with any profound emotion because again…it’s just a word.
Now, that being said, and being of the contradictory nature that I am, there are certain words that are indeed off-limits in my house, even with a free-wheeling parent such as myself. This isn’t so much because they are curse words as it is because they are derogatory and hateful words. Indeed, there are some non-curse words that are off-limits in my house for the same reason.
Let’s admit it, sometimes the right curse word in the right situation is the best. Quite often they are the most accurate way to convey a particular emotion (just ask Lewis Black); and why should we limit ourselves by not using what is at our disposal? The trick to all of it (of course there’s a trick, there’s always a trick) is to know, understand, and respect your audience. It’s important to have respect for oneself as well.
As I tell my kids, don’t come off looking stupid just because you think it’s cool to use a curse word when you know very well that a better, more appropriate, word would do — have more respect for yourself. Respect is a great deal more important than freedom of speech. At least in my house…which, contrary to outward appearances, has never been much of a democracy to begin with.
Musings from a Tangled Mind 