♥Done♥

It’s a rainy day here, except in my yellow study. I am so happy to tell you I just finished writing that synopsis of my novel-in-progress. Trying to type what I wanted to happen for the part yet unwritten, I thought I might be on the wrong track, for it had not made me cry. Only two pages were allowed, but at least single-spaced in font size 12. I was almost at the bottom of page 2, and had room for only the very ending of the story, when my Private Investigator had the last word. As he spoke, my tears rolled down. I knew I had it right. I shall read it many times, though, before it goes through the mail. The book’s working title I shall keep. That’s Fatal Interlude. But remember, it’s still unfinished.

♥

No poem today. I want to finish what I started.

The Library to My Rescue, Part 2

The second bizarre event occurred during the most recent campaigns for presidential nominations. Senator Diane Feinstein (D. CA) let it be known she had offered her D. C.-area home for a private meeting between Barack Obama and Hilary Clinton. Feinstein said she stayed upstairs and did not hear the conversation between the two, which lasted for quite some time. Why didn’t the news people ride this story to death? I’d really like to know what transpired there. Since they are politicians, my guess is he might have promised her the Secretary of State assignment, if she campaigned for him in those last weeks. Maybe something more too, for now the two Clintons are looking more and more as if they are joined at the hip with the two Obamas.

The library confirmed this meeting took place on June 6, 2008, at the place stated. Wouldn’t you like to know what was promised there? I would.

♥

The Library to My Rescue, Part 1

From time to time we all miss hearing something in the news, for if we lead productive lives, we can’t be slaves to the computer, television, radio, newspapers, magazines, or to those technological communicators you hold in your hand. One person hears this, another hears that. But I have yet to find someone among my acquaintances who recalls witnessing two events I "saw" that are possibly and probably happenings certain politicos would like to keep out of history books. I heard only one reference to these occurrences. Usually the news channels bombard a news item to death till we almost wish they had another catastrophe to serve up.

When I tell you these two, I wish everyone who caught either of these in the news would speak up, because both of them are hard to believe, but important. They were definitely on the telly, one on CNN and the other perhaps on Fox News.

The earlier one showed former Soviet Union Premier Mikhail Gorbachev getting off a plane and with no fanfare, no hands to shake, etc., as if he had been the only passenger aboard. He had been missing for several days and was now returning to Moscow. He stepped off the plane with his eyes large with wonder, as if he did n0t know what was going on and even if it were safe to deplane. Then there was nothing more. I’d like to know why he was kidnapped and why we heard no more about it. Eventually, Gorbachev and his wife came to live in the United States, where he had a cushy position as a writer--a columnist, I think--in some foremost periodical. The Internet has not helped in my research, but I have sent the question to the local public library, through the email offering “ask-a-librarian.” I hope the library has more than an ordinary Internet to consult.

Ah! Here’s the answer (I add with permission from the librarian) in less than five minutes:

Hi Lindsley,

Thanks for the great question.

According to PBS's American Experience on President Reagan, it looks like Mikhail Gorbachev was indeed kidnapped and returned. You can read more in this article:
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/amex/reagan/peopleevents/pande01.html It mentions the kidnapping toward the bottom.

And you are correct- Mikhail Gorbachev writes a column for the International Herald Tribune (the Global version of the New York Times) that is still running. You can access the articles in full text from our database called ProQuest Central that is accessible from our website here: http://www.boisepubliclibrary.org/eCollections/Databases/Name/p.asp, or you can browse through some of the most recent articles directly from the International Herald Tribune's site.

Hope that helps; please let us know if you have any more questions!

Best
Lindsay Wyatt
Reference Librarian
208.384.4043

Isn’t that remarkably fast? And so complete an answer! I am charmed. But Lindsay didn’t send Lindsley a batch of time to pursue it. That will come later.

Part 2 tomorrow.

♥

Update

The response from yesterday’s blog was quite pleasing, but it all came through email or person-to-person. Several of my friends have not yet found a way from their computers to make comments on the blog itself. I hope they will keep trying, for I hear there is always a way.

Today seven of my entries to statewide writing contests were mailed away, with the biggest of them all still pending. I have just till July 1 to write a synopsis of the novel-in-progress, and mailing it in with the first chapter. The latter part of the recap will reveal what I hope the ending of the book will be, for I have no idea what those characters will yet do. So, if you don’t find a blog here every day, just remember I’m busy solving that case.

♥

Let’s Think About It

Did you know fashions, both men’s and women’s, can predict impending war and impending truce? Before America got into World War II, and during the war itself, women’s hemlines were short and men’s trousers lost their cuffs. Short here does not refer to mini skirt length, but to an inch below the knee. Naïve to this truism, I dreamed of wearing my beautiful Navy uniform (remember, a Mainbocher creation), without the insignia, after the war was over. But almost immediately hemlines dropped six or so inches. Some ladies had their seamstresses insert six inches of a contrasting material around the skirts of their good suits, several inches above the hemline, at the risk of its looking “homemade.” I did not have that done to my uniforms. It would seem a desecration, I felt.

The reason for these trends is, of course, a great deal of fabric goes into any war effort, not just uniforms for the fighting men, but tents, tarps, backpacks, parachutes, flags, and the like. It’s a sacrifice all patriots are willing to share in. In fact, it’s no sacrifice at all for truly patriotic Americans.

If one had the time and inclination, he could research this topic to determine if perhaps President Franklin Roosevelt really did know Pearl Harbor was soon to be attacked, as several experts have maintained. But when the war was about to wind up, the big bomb had been kept so secret that the garment industry and its manufacturers surely had no orders to change their routines. That gave me only a short season of wearing my Mainbocher.

About other wars America fought in? The War Between the States waged in a pre-industrial time, when dressmakers or other individuals made a family’s clothing. One can guess, but history will surely bear it out, the full skirts of the antebellum days became less full with a shortage of material. From the postbellum period on, history shows no such lavishness in women’s attire. At the time of World War I, family photos likely show rather skimpy clothes in circumference, but still skirts much longer than minis. Remember movie scenes of the Charleston dance era in the 1920s and 1930s? Skirts had gotten short while sleeves were entirely missing. And war in Europe was soon to follow, with it just around the corner for America.

The Korean War was too close time-wise to WW II to make its own fashion statement but by the time of the Vietnam War, mini skirts were having a heyday.

The greatest change is always with women’s fashions, more than with men’s, but in addition to cuffless trousers, width of lapels on men’s jackets and a smaller output of slacks with pleats have also reflected history’s stance.

But now we hear, “You can wear anything and be in style.” Does that mean the politicos “ain't gonna study war no more?” Or do we assume we will always have war with us, with leaders who are all mixed up?

♥

Alas, She Said

I’m sorry to have to report to you my eyesight has worsened considerably in just this past week. I think the left eye has hemorrhaged (invisibly without the doctor’s instruments) and that just barely misses the pupil. I cannot use the phone directory even with a magnifier. The right eye hemorrhaged about four years ago, right on the pupil. The gas bubble treatment for it did not work and I don’t want to go through that again. Therefore, I shall type as large as I can (never studied typing) and the blog will transmit it in the right size for you to read. I hope I can finish writing my novel but it will be tough going. I would appreciate your prayers on my behalf.

Some time back someone wanted a list of the books recommended in this blog so far. It’s perhaps good to take care of this before I resume my story of being in the Navy during the time of a major war. Here’s the list, compiled as I went along.

Du Maurier, Daphne: The Scapegoat
Francis, Dick: any of his titles
Francis, Dick and Felix Francis: Dead Heat; Silks; Even Money
Grisham, John: The Broker
Hart, Marjorie: Summer at Tiffany
Kladstrup, Don and Petie: Wine and War
Kostova, Elizabeth: The Swan Thieves
Lewis, C. S.: Out of the Silent Planet
Malone, Dumas: (six volumes) Jefferson and His Time
Palin, Sarah: Going Rogue
Pasternak, Boris: Doctor Zhivago
Pearson, Ridley: Killer Weekend; Killer View; Killer Summer
Rinard, Lindsley (hi!): Death in Time (this just for good measure)
Scottoline, Lisa: Look Again
Sheldon, Charles: In His Steps
Tey, Josephine: Brat Farrah
Truss, Lynn: Eats, Shoots and Leaves
Vail, Margaret: Yours Is the Earth
Vercors (Jean Bruller): The Silence of the Sea
Williams, Emlyn: George, An Early Autobiography

♥

♥

Start the Music ©

Now I get me up to write
Having laid me down last night,
What I shall write I do not know,
But I shall find it as I go.
-Lindsley Rinard

♥

Abou Ben Adhem

When I was in eighth grade, certain literary works were required memorization for all eighth graders in the city of Nashville. These included, among others, a speech called “Spartacus to the Gladiators” and a poem by Leigh Hunt called “Abou Ben Adhem.” We recited these before the class and did so perfectly. Once in a while now, some of the lines to the latter run through my mind and I wonder who chose that poem for us to learn. I don’t have the permission to copy it here for you to read, but you can locate it easily on the Internet. If you are interested in what has happened and is happening to our schools, take a look at this poem. Some of you might see it as a Christian poem, but it is not. In a day when the Bible was read and prayers were prayed in public schools, this sort of thing was already creeping in.

♥

Clever Does It

Today at the hair salon I was reading a book about oral storytelling, in which the author said we should write down the clever and unusual speech we hear. I looked up to see a man come to the edge of this females’ world to pick up his wife.

Her hair stylist said, “Hi, George. How are you?”

He said, “I don’t have time to tell you.” ♥

His beautifully coiffed wife went over to him, ready to leave.

George added, “If I looked any better, we could be twins.”

Now that I’ve shared this, I won’t forget it.

♥

Fatal Interlude on Hold

It’s a dark and dreary wet day here today. But it has its bright moments. The new fridge-freezer is in place and stocked, and I heard a few minutes ago that Fred Thompson has a book out called something like Teaching a Pig to Dance. I suppose it could be a children’s book, since he and his wife have a couple of little ones, but I imagine it’s politics. I’d like to read it. He said in the interview he would NOT seek the presidency again. I don’t blame him. Who would want to clean up the present mess in Washington anyway?

And tomorrow my new Dell computer is to be here. It’s Pete III. I don’t know whether I can handle this gizmo or not. I’ll just have to figure out a way to cut ten years off my age, I suppose.

I finished reading one of my four new books and I don’t recommend it for anyone, the book a stranger at CostCo said I would like. I won’t even give the title here. Now I’m almost 100 pages into The 9th Judgment by James Patterson. He’s a good writer of the mystery genre. I am also reading the Book of Isaiah. I hope soon to be back at writing my own novel. About 12 chapters are finished. And since it is a dreary day, I want to stop writing here and get back to my reading 9th.

♥

Early Attic and Old Basement

If you have never watched the traveling “Antiques Road Show” on PBS, you are missing a good program. Besides entertaining you with other people’s accents and emotional surprises on the part of some, it can teach you a little history. The old items showcased run the gamut from personal letters of the famous, perhaps on fragile paper, to porcelains, to clocks and firearms, to big pieces of furniture. You can also learn how to care for a piece of old furniture so that its value is not lowered just because you changed it a bit.

I recently gave away two postcards that went through the mail around 1917-18. In another eight years they will be antiques. They were not from famous people, but they still might be valuable. I just didn’t have the time to fool with them. One was from Persia and one from Ulm, Germany, both written in pencil, not easily legible, but I’m quite sure some man serving in the Army in Europe, probably my mother’s brother Nelson, sent them to her. I’d kept waiting to have something else to accompany these before having them assessed. I donated them to the Idaho Youth Ranch store, where I unload much of my stuff, not antique.

Today’s younger generations do not seem to care about old stuff such as a bureau that might be worth $45,000. Why not? Are today’s gadgets so snooty they wouldn’t be caught in the company of such? It’s the new technological trinkets that die first, being constantly replaced by the next bright idea. I just wonder how freakish an antique cell phone will look like in a hundred years. If our planet lasts that long.

If you have a crammed-full attic or basement, why not check it out. You might be rich and not know it.

♥

♥

Él Ñino, They Say

Too many, too soon
from incessant rains for weeks
scarlet roses
after black budhood
fully opened
with absolutely no modesty
black lace around the outer petals
apt.
-Lindsley Rinard

♥

Writing Your Life’s Story

Everyone’s life has a story waiting to be told, and I dare say, when one has lived several decades, he has several books waiting. Many people not writing say they would like to write their life story, while others who are writing don’t often get around to their autobiographies. Real writers write at any point in their lives—they can’t not write—and perhaps numerous fictional characters portray the lives of their authors intermingling with the lives of their acquaintances, and I must say, with the lives in their imaginations. The other side of that coin, of course, is that authors run the risk of false accusations for the conduct of their characters in imaginary situations. Many famous authors have stated: Write what you want to write and let the chips fall where they may. (Although they probably translated this cliché into more picturesque language.)

But for you non-writers, wanting to produce that one book—autobiography—there are some good measures you might try. Forget about depicting the events of your life in chronological order. Think in terms of chapters, remembering many readers like chapters varying in length. (I am currently reading a book that started out with short chapters, such as less than two pages. How delightful! By the time I got hooked on the story, the chapters got long. That’s cheating!) Anyway, write that chapter that you are most eager to tell first. That should remind you of what you want to write next. Write all the exciting chapters in your life, as you think of them. After that is done, then you are ready to put the chapters in order.

The glue that holds these chapters together may take a little time, but it’s possible you won’t need any glue at all. And please, remember the first chapter doesn’t have to be about your birth and childhood. It could be what happened last week, and chapter two can say you got born for last week to happen to.

Now the editing starts, or the revision, depending on your ability to write in the first place. If you write “my wife Ellen” in chapter ten, please do not say Ellen is your wife again in another chapter. Just make her real when you introduce her and the reader will remember who she is.

So, the basic steps are Write, Arrange, Revise. But what makes the reader’s pages turn fast are the little Details you offer. All the way through, you can’t just relate events; you must describe places, analyze characters, and have some thoughts about life in general as well as your life in specific. But do the thinking in the fewest words possible and get back to the action.

And I hope you have a copious vocabulary. Happy landing!

♥

Lack-a-day

What an absolutely gorgeous day here! And I slept seven hours last night! That’s gorgeous too. Being out every Thursday, I like staying in on Friday if I can. My new fridge-freezer won’t be here till Tuesday, coming from Seattle. Its name is Theodore and it’s black, as are the dishwasher and the microwave oven. Theo has the icemaker, but does not have the ice water dispenser in the door. That is great, the way I wanted it. The almond range seems to be on the way to replacement too and then there’s the water heater whose days are numbered. Last year I bought a new furnace. And I need a new computer. My tech James is planning to select a Dell for me this time. I’m just glad I can print money to pay for everything. Oh, no, wait! That’s the government that does that, isn’t it? Alas!

♥

Did She Mean Humor Too?

Today at CostCo, at the book counter, of course, a young woman picked up a book, showed it to someone with her, and said, “I’ve read this. So-and-so gave it to me.”

I barged in with “Is it good? Is it a mystery?” (Strangers do converse around these books.)

She said, “It is mystery, and a little romance, and . . . a bit of gore.”

I said, “Al?”

She and he laughed. She said, “Oh, you’ll like it,” based on what I'd said.

I bought it. But I won’t advertise it here till I’ve read it. And I bought three others. Give me time.

♥

More Things That Control Our Lives

Today Queenie went. That’s the fridge-freezer. I knew she had only about three years to live, when she was repaired about that long ago. Two of the nicest young men I’ve ever seen on repair jobs—or anywhere else—showed up. Brothers they were, and both had been in the Marines, and both had served in Iraq. One had just got out of the service. They had the best manners I’ve witnessed in young men for many a year. I wanted to hug them both, but of course, I did not. One was teaching the other the repair job.

So tomorrow is cut out for me. I’ll take a cab to purchase a new fridge-freezer, hoping it can be delivered the same day. I’ll lose quite a batch of food, but tonight I decided to eat the tastiest thing the freezer offered. I chose the one individual-sized pepperoni pizza, to which I added some freshly cut red peppers. Delish!

If all of you who read my blog would sign up as followers (rather than use email) and sent a picture of your eyes or one of your feet or your backyard swing set, I could stop writing them and we could all spend our time just looking at the pictures.

See you later!

♥

It Must Be Monday

The morning here was dreary for the sky was overcast. I could not copy and paste on this computer. But perhaps I had nothing to say. Then it rained a bit, followed by sunshine. That’s Idaho weather for ya! But through it all, my Mother’s Day flowers brought an array of glorious colors.

In the meantime, I got an old movie watched, “The Day of the Jackal.” I remember reading the book many years ago, well written, and what a plot it has. If you like suspense, international intrigue, or anything between these two points, you should like this one. But it’s not for children.

Sometimes when I watch such films, which I might have seen several times before, I don’t stick with them till the very end. I know the ending and don’t always care to see that part again, often sad. However, one can learn a great deal from them, perhaps even some life-saving technique.

Also in the meantime, my computer tech returned my call and I got to pasting and posting again. Blah, blah, blah.

♥

Woman ©

He first saw her
in diaphanous blue
over white silk,
delicate as the pilot light
in a fireplace
and no doubt as
powerful.
-Lindsley Rinard

♥

A Cold Night in 1885

While I was searching through files for a poem for Sunday, not finding the poem I was after, an idea for today's blog came readily enough. It will be short but should be of some imterest to my posterity. It is the story of the manner in which one of my great grandfathers died. Family members can figure out their relationship to him.

On January 23,1885, Adrian Van Sinderen Lindsley was riding on horseback from downtown Nashville, where he had a law office, to his home Springside in an area then called Edgefield, about three miles away, across the Cumberland River. Before the days of weather forecasts, he likely had no idea of even the approximate temperature, and he froze to death. However, the horse knew the way home. When horse and rider arrived at the property in a rural setting, no one opened the gate for the horse. The next morning they were found frozen together, as if they were one being. AVSL was 70 years old.

JFK, Jr., Was a Loner

Have you ever noticed the predominance of White House daughters over sons since World War II? I’m referring to those children who actually lived there with their parents, or who would have lived there if they hadn’t been away at college. Don’t be confused by the following list: it doesn’t name all the presidents during those years, for some presidents’ children were older and already on their own. Let’s take a look:

Truman—one daughter
Kennedy—one daughter, one son
Johnson—two daughters
Nixon—two daughters
Carter—one daughter
Clinton—one daughter
Bush, G. W.—two daughters
Obama—two daughters

Perhaps a candidate seeking office for the presidency might have a better chance at winning if he ran ads saying, “I have a little daughter.”

♥

ANGELS, YES OR NO

It’s logical that numerous people anticipate becoming angels when they get to Heaven, for so many other people keep assuring them of that. I once watched on the telly a local funeral of a policeman killed while on duty. A man who spoke, perhaps the Chief of Police (I don’t recall exactly) told the deceased’s little children, sitting in the front row, their dad was now an angel in Heaven, watching over them.

In Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark tells Laertes after his sister Ophelia loses her mind and drowns herself, that she is, or will be (again I forget. It’s been years), a ministering angel. Shakespeare is often right-on-the-button when he discourses on theological concepts, but here he misses big. The Bible, which is the only real source of information for this issue, does not teach human beings ever become angels. Genesis tells us angels were a separate creation, and those with names in the Bible have masculine names.

If my readers disagree and can offer chapter and verse, please do so, but please also, stick to the King James Version or to the New International Version. Have a nice day!

♥

Ambition Out of Hand

Ambition can be a good thing but it can also be a tragic flaw. Let me remind you of Macbeth (you did study the play in high school, didn’t you?). This noble Scottish Thane of Glamis defeated the rebellious Thane of Cawder and then was awarded all the lands of the dead Cawder, as well as his title. Macbeth had been a great warrior in King Duncan’s army, and was touted for his bravery. But be had this tragic flaw in his character. When the three witches predicted he would be Thane of Cawder, and that came true, he decided to believe them when they called him King of Scotland. Then he wrote a letter to his wife, revealing his dream to be king. She was even more ambitious than he. But Macbeth had murdering the king in mind before she read his letter about the witches.

Many classroom instructors teach that the murder of King Duncan was Lady Macbeth’s idea and she drove her husband to it. No, that is not what Shakespeare said. It was after Macbeth wrote her of his wish to be king, and told her about the witches’ prophecies, that she determined to help him. Then she egged him on, belittling his manhood for hesitating to act on his own behalf. She laid the daggers ready, and Macbeth killed King Duncan, who was an overnight guest at their castle.

Macbeth became king and never had another placid day. His conscience made him miserable, yet he killed right and left to secure the throne and keep it. Lady Macbeth, tortured by horrible dreams, went mad, depriving Macbeth of the courage she had instilled in him. Finally Macduff severed Macbeth’s head from his shoulders and a son of Duncan became king of Scotland.

I bring up this drama because of its two types of killing. Shakespeare clearly defines the difference between killing the enemy in time of war and murdering for personal gain. Macbeth’s conscience did not bother him in the least till he killed out of his own ambition to be king. War is bad, and often, perhaps usually, a game on a chessboard for politicians, and a target for protest from chronic unpatriotic citizens because they don’t understand the difference between these two types of killing.

It is said almost any subject in school can be taught from the works of Shakespeare. I’m inclined to believe it. But he does make one big error in Hamlet. That’s coming up.

♥

Good and Evil

Once at a writers’ session (poets mainly) one attendee said the basic theme of literature was death. Well, she wasn’t an English major, and never learned that all great literature, for thousands and thousands of years, plus most of the not so great, depicts the struggle between good and evil. No one needs to be an English major to know that, but most readers have just probably not thought about it. The fiction works recommended on my blog to date, I vividly recall, illustrate this thesis. And among the nonfiction, surely Thomas Jefferson dealt with right and wrong in government matters, and Emlyn Williams in his autobiography. How can one tell his life story without including that struggle? And fiction books wouldn’t even exist without the portrayal of good versus evil. One of the most famous and enduring stories about right and wrong is Shakespeare’s Macbeth. And his Hamlet. And his King Lear. And his Othello. Say, do you have an hour or two to spare for this?

♥

Scottoline

Writers learn all the time. Or they should. About writing technique, I mean. It’s one thing to write from the viewpoint of the hero, or the observer of the hero, but quite another, from the viewpoint of the villain. Without our experience in villainy, it brings us up short to get inside the head of one of them. But I’m about to conclude sticking with the bad guy’s POV is easier than with the observer’s or narrator’s POV. After all, could the narrator, a decent character, really dig deep enough into the villain’s brain to know his wicked thoughts? While the writer is not a bad guy, he's supposed to be able to get inside any character's head. Someone is not going to understand that. The writer and the narrator are not the same person. One of them really lives, the other does not.

I’m tired of hearing, “Write what you know,” for most people who say it possibly cut that area down to one’s own backyard. How ridiculous! If we had to know the material we write about first-hand, how in the world would history books get written? Historians living now do not know first-hand the defeats and victories of the Roman Empire, the Norman Conquest of England, or even the more recent War Between the States. Those writers of history learn their facts from various sources, mainly the printed word. Other writers must do the same and today many of those printed words are on the Internet. You can take an unfamiliar subject, research it, and write about it. You are writing about something you know, but not what the backyard folks meant. I learned something from the exciting book I promised to tell you about, but I may never be aware I’m using even a scintilla of a fact from it. Nevertheless, some new information is lodged upstairs for retrieval, if desired.

That book is Look Again by Lisa Scottoline. Pronounce her surname in four syllables. I heard it online. Its ending rhymes with linguini. This is one story that will keep you turning ages fast for the suspense really grabs you. It’s written from the heart and it will touch yours (unless you’re a villain). It’s mainly a woman’s story but it has some highly interesting males in it. Nothing here about the plot, except to say it concerns a young single woman and her adopted three-year-old son, and it has a villain of the worst kind. This author has sold me. I plan to buy her latest book, Think Twice.

♥

♥

TO DREAM

Lindsley Rinard

One needs a Grecian sky
A tower high in Italy
Alpine blossoms, ocean’s song
Even just in memory.

But if a lack of these is
Cause for indecisive rue
Warm breeze across my cheek
Will positively do.

♥

I Agree With Churchill

As everyone knows, the general purpose of language is communication, even if it’s nothing more than singing to the trees, hoping they’ll hear. Reading a book is communication between author and reader, unless perhaps it’s a book on the quantum theory, when the author may lose most of us.

Everyone knows too, language changes with use. But we are living in an age when laxity in speech and writing seems to be at an all-time high. It may be true most of us associate with people who speak as we do, with good grammar or not, slang or not, swearing or not, good taste in subject matter or not, and any other area of language you can think of. If I’m surfing the movie channels, I sometimes come across a film which sounds almost like a foreign language but I can’t tell which foreign language. It’s often the speech of Brooklyn or Mobile or Chicago or East St. Louis. This is not all reference to regional accents, but to bad grammar and profanity spewing out over the airwaves.

The point I want to make is we must do some changing with the language. The two extremes must give a little, with, naturally, the ones who don’t speak like us, giving more. That ain’t gonna happen. Much, anyway. At one extreme, where I place myself, we have to make sure we are not stuck in the mire of former generations. High school English teachers were excellent in the old days, but are today getting a bad name from news reporters, who else? I cannot help thinking those very journalists didn’t do well in high school or college English classes (and it shows), and they must, therefore, attack and destroy. Some of the best speakers have been breaking the old rules for some time. For example, if you are one of those who still think we should not end a sentence with a preposition, just remember what Sir Winston Churchill said to his wife Clementine who chided him on breaking this very rule. He said obeying that rule was something “up with which I shall not put.” I love it. And I agree with him.

The issue here is not to be extreme in any aspect of language. It may give you a heart attack. Also, don’t take any guidance from the modern-day journalists.

By the way, the use of “ain’t” is coming from highly educated people, and not from the bottom up. Those bigwigs on television (not reporters) sometimes use it in the ordinary sense, but increasingly more often when just being cute. You can do that too. I like the word “ain’t” in certain usages.

♥