A few weeks ago, my husband left a calling card of sorts on my desk. It was a clip from an advice column in The Washington Post, in which a man complained about his girlfriend’s correcting his grammar and pronunciation. I never asked my husband whether he intended this to be an idea for my blog or a hint that he was relating to the poor bloke whose girlfriend corrected him—and only him—in front of others.
In the meantime, over the weekend, an opinion piece by Slate writer Michael Agger appeared in the Washington Post Business section. The piece cited instances in which companies receiving online reviews of their products and services corrected the spelling and grammar of their posting customers. Agger questioned the ethics of such practices, raising the issue of altering the authenticity of the online review process. Companies argue that sloppy posts, including favorable ones about their products or services, make the company look bad and, hence, impede sales.
When I wrote a piece about correcting others and being corrected last February, I got a sense of how my readers feel about it. But correcting what is posted as an online review is different. Or is it?
I must confess here that I occasionally do the same thing with this blog. Sometimes when a reader posts a comment and makes an inadvertent mistake in spelling, grammar or punctuation, I go in and make a minor correction. Not all the time, and not drastically. And I never alter the content.
Unlike text-tweaking online retailers, I don’t correct mistakes because they make me look bad. I do it to save commenters from potential embarrassment. You might say that I edit their comments to help them make their points more effectively. For example, if someone is preaching about the importance of good grammar, and misspells “grammar,” I don’t believe it’s a sin to go in and correct the spelling. Or if there’s a simple typo, I might go in and fix it.
This said, it doesn’t mean I don’t bristle when I see a comment lacking any upper case letters or essential punctuation, but I give benefit of the doubt when I suspect comments are generated on a mobile device. Occasionally, however, this has precipitated sidebar conversations with my loved ones, suggesting they reacquaint themselves with their friend, the apostrophe.
Where to draw the line with a red pen? Discuss.
I just heard that tomorrow 
Six years after that, a girl moved into our Virginia neighborhood from California. We were hanging out in her basement one day and she told me she had Davy Jones’ ring. She said she had been in the front row at a concert and, as Davy bounced energetically about the stage, the ring slipped off his finger and she caught it. She said she tried several times to return it but never got a response.
The examples I’ve come across in my research aren’t very polite; I suppose that’s why they are what they are. There are countless dysphemisms for using the restroom. My son used an ugly one recently, so ugly I must have put it out of my mind. I remember only that he used it in front of his grandfather.
About.com’s Grammar & Composition site
Everything that was ever made in silver and brass. Beautiful antique furniture. Crystal and glass in red, blue and green. Hundreds and hundreds of lamps, atop bases of ceramic roosters, cherubs, fruits and vegetables. Hundreds of candlesticks, salt and pepper shakers and bookends, and the usual trays, bowls and vases but enough of them to fill an outlet store many times over. A two-story, three car garage was full of furniture. And right in the middle of everything, amongst the vast collection of artwork, in a three-foot by four-foot frame, a portrait of John Wayne with an American flag, painted on black velvet.
Here’s the well kept secret. Cursive writing allows us to write faster and more efficiently because, but for dotting an “i” or crossing a “t,” we needn’t lift pen from paper and plunk it back down again. Just think how much energy we waste bobbing that pen up and down when we print. Cursive allows the hand to move in steady, rhythmic motions, like waves in the sea.
Now the contractors are here to refinish the floors, a process I’m told will generate significant amounts of dust. Instead of writing my blog, I spent the morning hours removing the remaining items from the counters and sealing up all of the cabinets because, if gobs of pine dust fill my drawers, I will surely melt. I’m already teetering on the edge of sanity.
So which modern TV mother are you? Or maybe you’re more of a traditional TV mother like June Cleaver or Edith Bunker. Or a mod 1960s or ‘70s mother like Samantha Stevens or Shirley Partridge. Which one do you wish you were and why?
Hon?
Word Nymph 