Indelibly Yours
A friend recently called to let me know that I had misspelled “Beatles” in my novel. This particular friend was practically exultant over catching the error. Years ago, while helping him move, I’d found a cardboard box he’d labeled “Winter cloths” and had some fun at his expense. He thought that catching my spelling,“Beetles,” for the bugs not the band, was almost payback.
In my experiences as English teacher and editor I’ve seen some pretty funny writing mistakes. I wish now I’d written more of them down but some are just unforgettable. I recall the student who wrote about her sincere conviction that we should, indeed, contribute taxpayer dollars to support “Euthanasia and other third world countries.” I remember a notice re-scheduling a training exercise in which the writer apologized for any “incontinence” she may have caused us. I remember assigning an essay in which students were asked to tell how they’d use a million dollars that could not be spent on themselves or their families. I was very moved and impressed by one paper which proposed donating the money to the Kennedy Foundation. Or at least I was, until the writer explained that she knew that many people needed “kennedy transplants.”
Most of the language mistakes we make or encounter are pretty quickly forgotten but some have a pretty long shelf life. It’s been forty years now but friends and I still laugh about the guy at the University of Tennessee who studded “Hell’s Angles” on his black leather jacket for a fraternity costume party. It will probably take generations before Dan Quayle’s descendants can live down his spelling of “potatoe.”
Recently, though, I read about some really permanent language goofs. Apparently tattoo parlors don’t use spell checkers. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if my kid came home tattooed with “Beautiful Tradgedy.” Or “Tomarrow never knows.” Or “I’m awsome.” Or “Only God will juge me.” (That one’s surely not true. I’d certainly be doing some juging of my own.)
I’m not at all happy about having misspelled “Beatles,” but at least it’s not inked on my thigh.
In my experiences as English teacher and editor I’ve seen some pretty funny writing mistakes. I wish now I’d written more of them down but some are just unforgettable. I recall the student who wrote about her sincere conviction that we should, indeed, contribute taxpayer dollars to support “Euthanasia and other third world countries.” I remember a notice re-scheduling a training exercise in which the writer apologized for any “incontinence” she may have caused us. I remember assigning an essay in which students were asked to tell how they’d use a million dollars that could not be spent on themselves or their families. I was very moved and impressed by one paper which proposed donating the money to the Kennedy Foundation. Or at least I was, until the writer explained that she knew that many people needed “kennedy transplants.”
Most of the language mistakes we make or encounter are pretty quickly forgotten but some have a pretty long shelf life. It’s been forty years now but friends and I still laugh about the guy at the University of Tennessee who studded “Hell’s Angles” on his black leather jacket for a fraternity costume party. It will probably take generations before Dan Quayle’s descendants can live down his spelling of “potatoe.”
Recently, though, I read about some really permanent language goofs. Apparently tattoo parlors don’t use spell checkers. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if my kid came home tattooed with “Beautiful Tradgedy.” Or “Tomarrow never knows.” Or “I’m awsome.” Or “Only God will juge me.” (That one’s surely not true. I’d certainly be doing some juging of my own.)
I’m not at all happy about having misspelled “Beatles,” but at least it’s not inked on my thigh.
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