Thursday
May152025

Since when did saying “f**k” become acceptable?

Warning: Old fart rant ahead

That “swearing is a sign of a deficient vocabulary” was a theory oft repeated by my teachers as I was growing up in the 50s and 60s. (A quick Google search shows this to be inaccurate.) But trying to limit my use of profanity is not because I am concerned others may think me stupid.* It is because of a single observation once told to me by a supervisor.

During my college “gap year,” I had two manual labor jobs. The first was as a hod carrier for a small masonry company. Hod carriers mix mortar, set scaffolding, and haul bricks and blocks around. I held the job for about six months and then was laid off.

My next job was delivering furniture and appliances for a large store. My supervisor and I would load up a van with sofas, tables, refrigerators, and such, and take them to customers’ homes. When not out driving about, we cleaned and rearranged the showroom. 

One day, shortly after starting work at the furniture store, my supervisor pulled me aside and commented, “Doug, do you know that you never say a single sentence that doesn’t have a swear word in it? I don’t mind but our customers might be offended” 

I was embarrassed, not realizing that after working with my very profane co-workers on the masonry site that I had picked up some of their linguistic habits. And on that day and after, I made a very conscious effort not to swear.

Since I wound up going into the field of education, this was a good choice. Classroom teachers, librarians, and even tech directors are expected to serve as good moral examples by watching their language. I believe I did a pretty good job of this.

I have always reserved the right to say “damn” or “bullshit.” But any swear word I use, I like to think I use intentionally. As I wrote back in 2019:

I try to use expletives or scatological references only sparingly and purposefully. But in adult conversations they are sometimes necessary, even vital. And during times of stress or excitement, unavoidable.

But it seems the world’s tolerance of even the most offensive profanities has changed. One cannot go to a store without seeing someone wearing a t-shirt with “f**k” on it. Jon Stewart’s Daily Show scripts now seem half comprised of some form of “f**k.” And nearly every Netflix movie warns views of the bad language that is to follow. I remember the day that three bad words in a movie would earn it an R rating and no one under 17 could watch it. Those were the days.

In comparison to other world problems, I suppose this is minor. But to me profanity is simply sand in the lubricant of a respectful society. Maybe I should just say, “F**k it” and worry about more important issues.

* There are plenty of other reasons for others to doubt my mental abilities.


 

Tuesday
May062025

Happiest time of the year

 

Goslings on Wheaton Pond, Lebanon Regional Park, May 1, 2025

It’s the hap, happiest time of the year.


When Andy Williams (an Iowa native) sang these lyrics from “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year”, he was, of course, referring to the Christmas season.

I beg to differ. While Christmas may have its charms, especially for kids expecting 30 dolls*, spring has always been the hap, happiest time of the year for me.

 

  • Wildflowers bloom
  • Migrating birds return
  • Trees bud and blossom
  • Grass turns green
  • Weather makes being outdoors lovely
  • Rain is appreciated
  • School is nearly out and graduations abound
  • Vacation plans get made
  • Heating bills go down
  • Short sleeved shirts are brought out
  • Bedspreads replace down comforters
  • Mornings are earlier and sunsets later

 

But for me, getting the air in the tires of the bike and back on the trails is perhaps the best sign of spring. As anyone who reads this blog knows, I have been and continue to be an avid biker. (See “Vacationing by Bicycle: A Puffer’s Guide.) So far my rides on the e-bike I purchased last spring have been relatively short. As the weather gets nicer, the rides will get longer. I need to train for a two-week boat/bike trip in Europe this summer and a week of riding in Idaho this fall.

One thing I’ve noticed this year is that I seem to be more cautious as I ride. My eight mile round trip to the YMCA includes city streets with no lane markings, busy county roads, bike paths, and even a couple short stretches of sidewalks along narrow streets with fast, high traffic. I cross quite a number of busy intersections. I am more deliberate about the moves I make on my bike. Balance, it seems, is not just physical, but mental as well.

Well, I am going to review my Lessons Learned from Bicycling and head out soon…

*Sorry kids, only two this year.


 

Tuesday
Apr292025

Books don’t change but readers do

I’ve only got about 75 pages left out of 700. Thank God. I can hardly wait to be done and put the damn book away.

I am re-reading Harry Combs book Brules, published in 1992. It was a Western that I remembered enjoying enough that I wanted to re-read it. Wanting to so much that I was willing to buy a paperback copy despite my distaste for paper books. I started reading the thing over a month ago, but I have read a couple other books which required returning to Libby in the meantime.

What surprises me about my reaction to a book I remember enjoying so much in the early 90s is how much more sensitive I’ve become to the racial and environmental attitudes Combs expresses. In Brules, the Comanche tribe of the late 1800s is a violent, sub-human species. (The Shoshone tribe comes off much better - they at least have some sympathetic individuals.) Brules’s relentless revenge-seeking hunting of the Comanche, purposely and guiltlessly killing dozens after a female companion was killed and he was tortured, lacks any real sense of justice. And now it feels that Brules’s hunting of bison and bears for their hides is rather appalling.

Combs’s words have not changed in the 30+ years since he published them. But my views of them have. Brules is no longer a heroic action figure surviving against all odds, but a man who is racist and ecologically unaware. He does the same things he did the first time I read the book, but I see him differently. 

Have I become “woke” without even knowing it?

PS. I have also found Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy to be different each of the three times I’ve read it. As a high school student, I loved the adventure story. As a college student, I appreciated the political allusions. And as an adult, reading it just before Peter Jackson’s movies were released, I most admired Tolkien’s literary style. Maybe I should read it again. 

PPS. I wonder how I would react to McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove series were I to re-read it today. I think Lonesome Dove would fare OK, but not so sure about Comanche Moon or the other two.