In October of 1964 I turned eighteen. Eighteen was that magical semi-step into adulthood for young men that meant that you were still far too young to drink alcohol, except in the state of New York, and still could not vote, but you were now mature enough to spend a few years in the Army. Several weeks before my birthday I received a large envelope in the mail from the Selective Service with a nine or ten page form I was to fill out and return before said birthday. I really don't remember much about the form except for thinking, "I haven't lived long enough to have answers for this many questions." Or something like that. That is at least the gist of my reaction which was a very complex mixture of thoughts, emotions and panic which at the time got edited down to something which probably sounded more like, "Damn!"
Showing posts with label 1960s. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1960s. Show all posts
Monday, March 23, 2009
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Tan shoes and pink shoelaces . . .
When a person reaches my age it is not too unusual for them to start talking about how great things were in some semi-mythical period in the past. For me it would be the 1950s. There are, however, very few things I want to resurrect. Don't get me wrong, I have lots of great memories of my youth—like the magic of slow-dancing with a girl to "Harlem Nocturne"—it's just that I also remember the not so pleasant things. We may be going to hell in a hand basket now, but we were headed that way then too. The basket is just a different style now.
Having said that, the one thing I do miss from the 50s is the uniforms hospital workers wore. When I go to the hospital now everyone is either wearing scrubs, those bizarrely patterned polyester tunic outfits, or a lab coat. You don't know if the person coming into your room is a nurse, doctor, therapist, HMO spy or from housekeeping. The only thing you have to identify them, besides their word, is their name tag and the females usually wear theirs backwards so you can't see them. I guess to keep the wrong people from learning their name.
It weren't that way in my day.
Having said that, the one thing I do miss from the 50s is the uniforms hospital workers wore. When I go to the hospital now everyone is either wearing scrubs, those bizarrely patterned polyester tunic outfits, or a lab coat. You don't know if the person coming into your room is a nurse, doctor, therapist, HMO spy or from housekeeping. The only thing you have to identify them, besides their word, is their name tag and the females usually wear theirs backwards so you can't see them. I guess to keep the wrong people from learning their name.
It weren't that way in my day.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
It seems like a mighty long time . . .
It was in 1965. I'm pretty sure it was on a Sunday morning, but I can't remember if it was in late April or early May. Early in the morning my mother dropped me off in the circle drive in front of the main entrance of the high school. She took my suitcase out of the trunk for me, and put it on the side walk next to those of my classmates. She asked me one last time if I was sure I would be all right, and then got back in the car and drove home.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Hit that jive, Jack...
I have never been comfortable with slang, and cannot stand jargon in almost all of its forms.
When I was in high school I could not describe something as "fab" or "boss" with the proper élan; and a few years before that I was sure "daddy-0" was a term whose only real function was to make Maynard G Krebs sound funny. Was that cool cat "hip" or "hep"? If I was square was the kid ridiculing me triangular or circular? As far as I could tell the only purpose the words served was to make the speaker sound silly. It was as if they were trying too hard to make a distinction between their generation and their parents' generation.
It only got worse in college. Everything became far out and right on and groovy, unless, of course, it was really heavy or deep. Did I have a jones, or was the man keeping me down? What really happened at a happening, and could you have a be in outside? If I rapped with some freaks and we got into some heavy shit should I take a bath? And, finally, if you had some really righteous weed was it possible to get some that was blasphemous?
I became convinced that with the proper chemical enhancements the purpose of language ceased to be communication, and mutated into something that only needed to sound impressive. The goal was to sound amazingly metaphysical without actually imparting any information, "There is nothing you can do that can't be done," being a prime example. About the best that can be said is that my generation's slang prepared it for such marketing fact-vacuums as "professional grade."
As I see it, the purpose of slang like 'daddy-o' or 'groovy' is to make a distinction between the speaker's group and the rest of the world, and to convey the excitement and joy of being part of that group. We are young. We are inventive. We have broken free of the staleness of You. Our generation is more aware/expressive/happening than the last. This, of course, is nothing new. Just as Socrates complained about the lawless ignorance of the next generation, the youth of Athens probably thought he was two iambs short of a pentameter. As far as I can tell it has been going on ever since our 573,286th great grandparents grunted their parents were really dull sticks.
Jargon's purpose, on the other finger (the difference is small so it's on the same hand), is primarily to exclude. Whatever the group, be it Sherlock Holmes aficionados or stock brokers, they develop an argot that serves to separate Us (those who are in the know and part of the group) from Everyone Else.
Usually it starts as a form of shorthand. A way for textbook buyers, for example, to talk about the number of books they are going to acquire for a particular class. In this case they can say "QTC" instead of "quantity to cover", which is itself shorthand for "the number of books required to fulfill the needs of a particular class." The problem is that approximately thirty seconds after its first use this shorthand becomes a code that tells me if you are also a textbook buyer or just another student or faculty member spouting off.
A second, subtly different, use for jargon is to make the outsider feel small, stupid, impotent, unqualified or all of the above. "How dare you tell me how to do my job when you don't even know what a QTC is," being the typical attitude. The field of medicine has traditionally been the prime example of this behavior, but every group, no matter how small—or perhaps I should say, especially if it is small—is guilty to some extent. I'm sure that the three or four of you who are still reading this have, at some time or another, left a discussion with the IT department or an auto mechanic feeling slightly humiliated and very much enraged because you had just been made to feel like a mentally challenged three year old.
Is there a solution, or is one even needed? The answer to both is probably not. Slang will continue to be invented by those striving to express the excitement, joy, awe or fear they feel in discovering the universe and their place in it; and jargon will always be needed for a group to conduct their business, and will always be twisted to protect the group and exclude outsiders. My answer has been to avoid both as much as possible, but that has led to my having speech and writing styles that tend to make me sound like a fussy, old man.
Perhaps the real answer is, as they say, just to keep on keepin' on.
***********************
A couple footnotes:
My inability to use the adjective "boss" in the mid-sixties without a fair amount of irony might have had some self-evident causes, but I would have had the same problem with "smith" or "carmichael".
Maynard G Krebs was a character on "The Many Loves of Dobby Gillis" played by Bob Denver before he became Gilligan.
何か言いつつ車押し行く夫婦なり
A married couple/Pushing a hand-cart/Saying something to each other.
—Ittou
When I was in high school I could not describe something as "fab" or "boss" with the proper élan; and a few years before that I was sure "daddy-0" was a term whose only real function was to make Maynard G Krebs sound funny. Was that cool cat "hip" or "hep"? If I was square was the kid ridiculing me triangular or circular? As far as I could tell the only purpose the words served was to make the speaker sound silly. It was as if they were trying too hard to make a distinction between their generation and their parents' generation.
It only got worse in college. Everything became far out and right on and groovy, unless, of course, it was really heavy or deep. Did I have a jones, or was the man keeping me down? What really happened at a happening, and could you have a be in outside? If I rapped with some freaks and we got into some heavy shit should I take a bath? And, finally, if you had some really righteous weed was it possible to get some that was blasphemous?
I became convinced that with the proper chemical enhancements the purpose of language ceased to be communication, and mutated into something that only needed to sound impressive. The goal was to sound amazingly metaphysical without actually imparting any information, "There is nothing you can do that can't be done," being a prime example. About the best that can be said is that my generation's slang prepared it for such marketing fact-vacuums as "professional grade."
As I see it, the purpose of slang like 'daddy-o' or 'groovy' is to make a distinction between the speaker's group and the rest of the world, and to convey the excitement and joy of being part of that group. We are young. We are inventive. We have broken free of the staleness of You. Our generation is more aware/expressive/happening than the last. This, of course, is nothing new. Just as Socrates complained about the lawless ignorance of the next generation, the youth of Athens probably thought he was two iambs short of a pentameter. As far as I can tell it has been going on ever since our 573,286th great grandparents grunted their parents were really dull sticks.
Jargon's purpose, on the other finger (the difference is small so it's on the same hand), is primarily to exclude. Whatever the group, be it Sherlock Holmes aficionados or stock brokers, they develop an argot that serves to separate Us (those who are in the know and part of the group) from Everyone Else.
Usually it starts as a form of shorthand. A way for textbook buyers, for example, to talk about the number of books they are going to acquire for a particular class. In this case they can say "QTC" instead of "quantity to cover", which is itself shorthand for "the number of books required to fulfill the needs of a particular class." The problem is that approximately thirty seconds after its first use this shorthand becomes a code that tells me if you are also a textbook buyer or just another student or faculty member spouting off.
A second, subtly different, use for jargon is to make the outsider feel small, stupid, impotent, unqualified or all of the above. "How dare you tell me how to do my job when you don't even know what a QTC is," being the typical attitude. The field of medicine has traditionally been the prime example of this behavior, but every group, no matter how small—or perhaps I should say, especially if it is small—is guilty to some extent. I'm sure that the three or four of you who are still reading this have, at some time or another, left a discussion with the IT department or an auto mechanic feeling slightly humiliated and very much enraged because you had just been made to feel like a mentally challenged three year old.
Is there a solution, or is one even needed? The answer to both is probably not. Slang will continue to be invented by those striving to express the excitement, joy, awe or fear they feel in discovering the universe and their place in it; and jargon will always be needed for a group to conduct their business, and will always be twisted to protect the group and exclude outsiders. My answer has been to avoid both as much as possible, but that has led to my having speech and writing styles that tend to make me sound like a fussy, old man.
Perhaps the real answer is, as they say, just to keep on keepin' on.
***********************
A couple footnotes:
My inability to use the adjective "boss" in the mid-sixties without a fair amount of irony might have had some self-evident causes, but I would have had the same problem with "smith" or "carmichael".
Maynard G Krebs was a character on "The Many Loves of Dobby Gillis" played by Bob Denver before he became Gilligan.
何か言いつつ車押し行く夫婦なり
A married couple/Pushing a hand-cart/Saying something to each other.
—Ittou
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