Road Apples by Tim Sanders
Jan. 17, 2011
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Grammar and the Great Boxcar Blizzard Here’s a grammar question: Q: I put posts on Facebook several times a day, and sometimes I make a typo, or spell bird with a “u”. So where’s the problem? Everybody knows what I mean, don’t they? A: Not necessarily. Just last week I read a Facebook entry which said: “Will be so glad when the sow is gone!!!” There was considerable confusion among the lady’s friends about her “sow” comment. One thought perhaps an overweight relative had been visiting, while another asked if the lady had a pet Chester White in the backyard. And of course her added remark “Hope we don’t have any more” only provided more confusion. If she was so eager to get rid of her present sow, why in the world would she even consider having any more? The lady finally was forced to explain that what she meant to say was “snow,” not “sow.” As you can see, that one little letter made a huge difference. Q: But I like the snow and also bacon so I wouldn’t never have wrote that. A: If you like snow, then you’ll probably be interested in the following Internet chat room exchange between your humble grammar journalist and Howard Duffel of Trion, Georgia: HOWARD: Did you ever hear the story of what happened in Tinfoil, Georgia back in 1912? ME: No ... and why did they call it “Tinfoil, Georgia?” HOWARD: Because there hadn’t nobody heard of aluminum foil yet. ME: Oh. Okay, if this has something to do with grammar, then go ahead. HOWARD: Well sir, it’s just chock full of all kinds of grammar. What happened was there was this little town of Tinfoil down a few miles south of Moultrie which hadn’t never in its history seen a bit of snow. By which I mean Tinfoil hadn’t. Moultrie had got snow several times. Some people who lived there said it was a curse, and some blamed the pulp mill and the chicken houses and other things. Either way, when all them other towns got snow and Tinfoil didn’t, they was always very envious. ME: Does this have a point? HOWARD: Yes it does. In January of 1912 there was a cold snap. For seven weeks the temperature never got above 18 degrees fair and hite all the way from New England to south Florida. All the towns around Tinfoil, including Thomasville, Valdosta, and Cecil had got snow that year, but not Tinfoil. There was a millionaire businessman in Tinfoil name of either Reynolds or Neely who took pity on his neighbors. He could see how bad them schoolchildren in Tinfoil wanted to get them some snow days too, and how lots of store owners and mill workers and such would of loved to have some time off and he remembered how disappointed they all was over their usual nasty old brown Christmas, so he arranged a deal with the city of Buffalo. ME: Buffaloi, New York? HOWARD: Yessir. People in Buffalo had been snowed in for two months and was sick and tired of snow, so this Reynolds, at least I think his name was Reynolds, he got a contract to plow their streets and load up all that snow into boxcars and ship it south on the old Atlantic and Southern Baptist Railroad which had a depo in Tinfoil. He leased twenty-two 50 ft. boxcars which held 5300 cubic feet of snow each, and nineteen hopper cars which held 3,000 cubic feet of snow each. After the snow was loaded it took three days for the train to get to Tinfoil, but the temperature was below 20 degrees all the way so there weren’t no meltage. There was a brass band there to greet it and just dozens of Model T’s pulling trailers, all ready to load up snow and carry it home to the family. And there was gasoline tractors and teams of mules and horses all hitched to wagons and snorting and ready to haul that snow to their houses and store fronts and schoolyards and such. The town council had even arranged for three steam tractors to haul snow from the boxcars to fill up the streets. The mayor he gave a moving speech about how thanks to Mr. Reynolds and the tiresome efforts of the city council, good Democrats each and every one, all the city streets and at least two county roads would be closed until Groundhog Day, weather permitting. Tinfoil’s long awaited blessed boxcar blizzard was at hand, praise the Lord. Then the train pulled in and everybody cheered and there was another speech by the head of the local DAR and an evocation by the Methodist minister and then the band led the crowd in the Docks Oligy. ME: So why haven’t I ever heard of Tinfoil, Georgia? HOWARD: Because of the great flood which washed the entire town into Oafaloafamulchie Creek. Back then nobody knew about manmade global warming but now it makes perfectly good sense. What with all the methane from them mule teams and horses and all the heat from that brass band and the steam from them steam tractors and carbon remissions from the Model T’s and confeddy partical remissions from that pulp mill which only had a thirteen foot smokestack dew to the small size of the trees down there and the hot air expired by them speeches, the temperature in Tinfoil shot up from 16 degrees to 72 degrees in just over an hour and by the time folks noticed the water dripping from them boxcars, it was too late. The Moultrie Harold Newspaper said later that when all the boxcars and the hopper cars was opened they esteemed that over 800,000 gallons of water rushed down the hill into Tinfoil where it toppled the water tower which added another 300,000 gallons. In less than fourteen minutes the band’s entire trombone section, most of the town’s rolling stock, and every store on Main Street was gone. ME: Even if I were to believe you, what would that story prove? HOWARD: When it comes to snow you ort to be very careful what you ask for. There may be a grammar lesson in there, somewhere, but you’ll have to find a shovel and excavate it on your own. Just writing the column wore me out. |