This is an easy one: so far, “alright” is not considered an acceptable form of this construction. “Alright is all wrong” might help you to remember. However, given the prevalence of the one-word spelling in advertising and popular culture, I predict it is only a matter of time before “all right” will be “all wrong.” Meanwhile, I’m hanging in there with the purists.
I hope you are familiar with the donation sites that ask you to click every day to support various causes (breast cancer, autism, hunger, literacy, veterans, and several others). I have been clicking for years. You can click on all of them in under a minute and can even select having a reminder sent to you daily. The causes are supported by various businesses; you are not required to pay anything—just a click a day.
I have to admit, my heart sank when I got to the diabetes site today. This was the welcoming message:
Does no one proofread? Does no one understand that most words ending in S are merely plurals, not possessives? Are these rhetorical questions?
Despite my curmudgeonly reaction to the errant apostrophe, I still do encourage you to support these causes daily; it will take only one minute of your time.
You can always write about the Williams family or the Watkins family, but the rule in pluralizing a name ending in S is, as you would expect, to add —ES. Therefore, the first family in the previous sentence is the Williamses and the second is the Watkinses. I can hear you shouting about how weird those names look. What I find interesting is that people have no problem saying or writing “keeping up with the Joneses.” Why then is it difficult to want to keep up with the Hopkinses or the Chamberses?
That Jones family has been around so long that we are all inured to the plural. Chances are even if you write the plural correctly for other names, you will still pronounce the plural form as the singular: you’ll drop the sound of the —ES: “We’re having dinner next Saturday with the Hopkins
(ES).” But do write it correctly.
Adding an apostrophe does NOT make a plural: “Watkins’s” is the possessive form of one person named Watkins, as in “Dr. Watkins’s umbrella.” In fact, you can drop that final S after the apostrophe and you’ll still be correct. However, writing that you are “having dinner with the Watkins’s” is always going to be wrong.
I needed to use the word “sanction” the other day and thought about how it has two opposite meanings (a contronym): A sanction means approving of something (asking a boss to sanction your project) or sanctioning by boycotting (as in sanctioning certain companies that take positions you do not agree with).
The word “cleave” is similarly a contronym, meaning to stick to something (The toddler cleaved to her mother’s arm) and also to split or sever (Pioneers needed to cleave logs to keep their cabins warm).
Here are some more contronyms on a list from this source: http://blog.oxforddictionaries.com/2012/06/contronyms/
dust: 1 to remove dust. 2 to cover with dust.
hysterical: 1 frightened and out of control. 2 funny.
nervy: 1 showing nerve or courage. 2 excitable and volatile.
moot: 1 debatable. 2 not worth debating. (Pronounced as spelled, not as MUTE)
fast: 1 moving quickly. 2 solid and unable to move.
seed: 1 to sow seeds. 2 to remove seeds.
weather: 1 to withstand a storm. 2 to wear away.
screen: 1 to show, e.g., a film. 2 to hide something.
bound: 1 fastened to a spot. 2 heading for somewhere.
apology: 1 an expression of regret for something. 2 a defense or justification of something.
strike: 1 to hit. 2 to miss (in baseball).
I love being a word nerd.
Doubtless, these are the most difficult letters to write. You are feeling awkward, sad and helpless and are writing to someone who has suffered an enormous loss, be it a death or serious injury or perhaps a robbery, job loss, bankruptcy, natural disaster, miscarriage, stillbirth, death of a pet—you get the idea.
What you should NOT do is ignore the situation. I know you feel awkward, but the person suffering the loss wants to hear from you and will be disappointed if you fail to write. Put their feelings before your own.
Here are a few guidelines that could help you:
1. Use your natural voice. Picture the person you’re writing to and use the same words as if you were face to face. Do not revert to the platitudes, clichés and euphemisms associated with grief, such as “offering condolences,” “the dearly departed,” “loved one,””at this tragic time.” Avoid euphemisms: words for death such a “passed away,” “passed,” “passed on,” “expired” (as George Carlin used to say, “like a magazine subscription”). If a person has died, it is fine to use the words “death” and “died.” That is what happened.
2. Saying you’re sorry is honest. Try to recall a happy occasion or event surrounding the person who died. You can be lighthearted and even funny in your reminiscence; it will bring a smile to the one who has suffered the loss.
3. Don’t ask what you can do to help. That is vague and likely will not be picked up on. Instead, say you will call soon and check on them. Then put this on your calendar and do it.
4. Tell the person who has suffered the loss that you do not expect a response, that you know it is a burden.
5. Close with an expression of sympathy and affection (if appropriate) and a wish that the bereaved find comfort in memories of happy times in the past.
If you are honest and natural, your letter will be gratefully received. You will have done something good for someone in a difficult situation. It is far more meaningful to write honestly and openly than just to send a sympathy card with your signature after the message.
These three everyday words are frequently used incorrectly. Their true meanings may surprise you.
1. ENORMITY: Does not imply gigantic size. It means extreme evil, as in “the enormity of the murder of Abraham Lincoln.”
2. NAUSEOUS: Doesn’t mean to feel as if you are going to vomit; it means to cause that feeling in others. If you are about to toss your cookies, you are NAUSEATED.
3. PERUSE: Does not mean to read quickly, to skim. It means to look over something very carefully.
I haven’t posted in a while because I spent the last 10 days having a houseful of guests including our two precious grandchildren. We spent the time hitting some of the cultural highlights, including exhibits on Pompeii, Byzantium, dinosaurs, gems and minerals, and a stellar art exhibit at the LA County Museum, entitled “From Van Gogh to Kandinsky,” one I consider perhaps the best show LACMA has ever mounted.
Looking at what I titled this post and my mentioning of LACMA reminded me how often I hear people confuse abbreviations with acronyms. All acronyms are abbreviations, but not all abbreviations are acronyms. Acronyms are abbreviations pronounced like words: snafu. fubar, NASA, ASAP, laser, LSAT and GMAT, among others.