Road Apples
Aug. 10, 2009

Lightning and lightning bugs

By Tim Sanders

Words are very important. If you don’t believe me, ask any congressperson, several of whom have pledged on their sacred honor as duly elected public servants to personally either read a large portion of the new National Healthcare Reform Bill, or to hire a competent battalion of lawyers to read it for them. Many legislators have even promised to go that extra mile and do this almost immediately, right after the August recess, or at least after they’ve voted on the bill this fall. Or by Christmas at the very latest (they were not specific as to which Christmas). It is an excellent strategy–pass the thing quickly, so you can do your duty and read some of it at your leisure. I admire their fortitude.

Unlike congresspersons, however, some government employees are not so fastidious when it comes to words.

For example, I recently read an interesting article on the Oshkosh, Wisconsin Northwestern.com website which dealt with words. (It did not explain the word Oshkosh, but I suspect that it’s no coincidence that just a few miles to the east, on the shores of Lake Michigan, is the community of Gesundheit, Wisconsin.) The words in question were printed on an exit sign on Wisconsin’s southbound Highway 51. The sign was supposed to indicate that travelers were approaching exit 185, Business 51, to Rothschild and Schofield. To their credit, the good people at Decker Supply Company of Madison who printed the sign did manage to spell the word “exit” correctly. Unfortunately, the two towns had morphed into “Schofeild” and “Rothschield.” Even “Buisness” missed the mark. Granted, all of those misspelled words were close, but Rothschild’s Village President felt his town deserved better, and politely said that he suspected “ incompetency on someone’s part.” And while David Vieth, of the Wisconsin Department of Transportation, was quick to point out that the folks at Decker had printed the thing, he didn’t comment on why state employees hadn’t noticed the misspellings when they installed the sign. Then again, they were only highway department employees, not congresspersons.

So being acutely aware of the importance of words to congresspersons, highway department employees, and even regular folks who are in no way implicated in government foolishness at any level, I thought long and hard about discussing a couple of letters to the editor printed over the past few weeks. At first I thought the topic would be timely, and then said to myself: “No, I’d be wise to leave it alone.” Then I thought again, and said to myself: “Hey, self, wisdom has never been your strong suit, so go ahead.”

Without going into detail, the first letter, found in the July 20 issue of The Post, included an impassioned plea from a Cedar Bluff resident for God to damn certain individuals, and to bless others. The letter concerned health care providers, but had nothing to do with government programs. In response to that letter, another letter, in the August 3 edition, voiced concern that the editor had actually printed the G-word and the D-word in that first letter, rather than initializing the words. Ah, what a dilemma. When I read that second letter, and the editor’s reasoned response, it piqued my curiosity about the original July 20 letter. So I re-read it.

This is how it began:


“May God damn physicians who over-diagnose and over-prescribe and over-medicate their patients.”


What immediately caught my attention was that little introductory word, “may.” Mark Twain, speaking of the importance of choosing the right word, noted that the difference between the right word and almost the right word was the difference between “lightning” and “lightning bug.” Little words can make a big difference. “GD physicians” has one meaning, while “May GD physicians” is much less a malevolent malediction and much more a humble supplication. Particularly when followed by “may God save the patients ... and bless their families.” I thought about it for awhile, before deciding that “May GD physicians,” followed by “May GS the patients ... and B their families,” would confuse everybody. Likewise, popular sanitized euphemisms which would have necessitated Dadgumming or Goldanging physicians would have fallen flat.

I suppose the lady from Cedar Bluff could have requested that the Almighty consign certain unnamed physicians to the Ninth Circle of Dante’s Inferno, while taking mercy on their patients, rescuing them from the bowels of the nether regions and bestowing upon their longsuffering family members comfort and showers of benevolence, but by the time the reader was done digesting the flowery language, the letter would have lost its punch.

Having said all that, let me add that I sincerely hope no letters arrive accusing me of trivializing either letter number one or letter number two, each of which reflected the legitimate concerns of many good county residents. I also hope no one writes accusing me of picking on the medical profession. Doctors have pulled my fat from the fire on more than one occasion. This column was simply my clumsy attempt to calm the troubled semantic seas in which we all flounder.

If I have offended anyone, except congresspersons and people in Wisconsin who make lousy road signs, I humbly apologize. Those folks, gosh darn them all to heck, need to familiarize themselves with the words they so carelessly toss about.

By the way, you’ll notice I had the good sense to avoid poking fun at the popular and cost-effective Cash for Clunkers program, which will air on PBS this fall right after Antiques Road Show. It wasn’t easy, but I avoided it.