Words

I am fascinated by words, really, I always have been. I remember the first time that I swore, come to think of it. I was in second grade, probably about 7 and I was shooting baskets by myself. I don't really like basketball, but because of that I suppose that it fits right in with a possible "reason" why I swore. Whenever I missed a basket, I'd say, "Beaver's Dam!" under my breath and as I missed more, my voice grew just a bit louder until it sounded like this, "BEAVER'S DAM!" and even then, it just wasn't enough. It was like drinking Lowfat hot chocolate or sleeping with pajamas (bet you didn't expect that image right then). Anyway, on the next shot, when the basketball rolled around the rim and then fell off to the side, I did it. I let loose, I challenged the system at a young, impressionable age and I screamed the word at the top of my lungs as if I had been saying it forever, "DAMN!" and then, like the scared shitless, guilt laden, "most everything is a sin" girl I was, I ducked for cover, my hands over my head, fear seeping out of my pores in the form of sweat and I waited for judgment. A full two or three minutes passed and then...nothing. I slowly uncurled myself from the standing fetal position that I'd created and I looked up at the sky. I'd been given a reprieve! Hallelujiah! Oh, I put my hand to my chest and breathed in the victory of parental and religious defiance. I savored the moment and when I was finished exulting, I picked up the basketball and shot it again. And this time when I missed, there was no fear, but, instead, a calmness, an acceptance as I shouted out the word. Little did I know then that this would only lead to a life filled with foul language and other types of debauchery (not really, but I love the word debauchery).

So, we're at the baseball field last week and Ty, the maniac, so appropriately dubbed, partly because he's 3 and partly because he's a maniac, is sitting with me in the stands while we pretend to watch Nick's (the 10 year old's) game. He's eating a Reese's peanut butter cup and I'm faking interest in the "I'd much rather be getting an enema" minor baseball game when all of a sudden I hear, "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck" and I am appalled. Who is saying that at a kid's baseball game; of course, I'm completely in denial because, you guessed it, it's Ty. I don't even have the sense to be embarrassed. Instead, I just hand him another peanut butter cup and I tell him not to let this one get "STUCK." He thinks he can embarrass me. But then, one of the mothers asks, "Did he just say what I thought he said?" but in a laughing tone which, by the way, is the worst thing that you can do when a kid swears and you know why. So, I just shrugged and said, "Yeah." But then, I had one of those moments where you know that you're supposed to do the "right parenting" thing and I grabbed his arm and pulled him off the bench. Chocolate flying out of his already filthy (yes that is a double entendre) mouth, he asked, "Where we going?" We're almost to the car when I tell him, "We're going home buddy, you can't swear at the fucking baseball field." To which he replies, "Okay mom."

I realize that I am completely to blame for the bad language and I make no apologies; I like to swear. I like the feel of the forbidden words as they roll off my tongue. My therapist told me that in order to change the behavior that I was going to have to make substitutions with words; I can use whatever I want, but instead of "Shut the fuck up" I'll have to go with something like, "Shut the bananas up" or "Shut the, there is no possible alternative substitute for the word fuck that will correctly convey my feelings of anger and resentment, up!" Well, at least being out of breath might keep me from saying the "F" word so much. Just today, my brother said it in the car when we were driving home from a hike and Ty turned to him and said, "Uncle Teed (Steve), don't say dat, say dawnit!) Substitutions, they work apparantly, but I'm still not convinced.

I'd like to mention one more thing about words, well, maybe two. If we are going to continue to berate and publicly humiliate people and, because we are Americans, of course we will; it's part of our charm and, partly, the reason why other countries often hate us. But, if we are going to call it what it is, let's do it in the most colorful and traditional way, using words that we are all familiar with. She steals your husband, story is on the cover of people magazine, she's not "misunderstood" or "the other woman;" No! She's a whore. Your best friend "borrows" money and forgets to pay it back; he's not "forgetful," he's a good for nothing prick. Your kid gets punched by another kid at school, you don't tell him to "defend" himself, you tell him to "kick that kid's ass!" Lastly, if someone bothers you and you are one of those two faced bitches who turns around and completely screws the person you were just talking to, well then, you're just a ... hey already took care of that one.

Words are important; they convey truth and because they do, they should be treasured in all forms, in all mediums and if you can't handle that, then put your dial on mute and the next time someone pisses you off, just flip them the bird; that one will always be universal.