Humor Life Parenting

This Essay Is Worth a Thousand Dollars

By Dawn Claflin

Problem: my children and I no longer speak the same language.

Example 1: “You are a freak!” Is this good or bad?

Example 2: “That is sick!” Is it vomit or a lime-green 2014 Camaro?

Example 3: “She’s my bae!” Is it…huh?

In our ever-diversifying world, language is changing faster than I can evolve, and I’m being left behind. Because I need a dictionary to converse with my 13-year-old, and also because I live in fear of the repercussions if I wear a cute foreign-language t-shirt which I thought said Have a Nice Day but which actually says Your Religious Founder Was a Moron, I would like us all to return to older, simpler, more direct ways of speaking and writing. In today’s world of social media, our communication lacks that critical element of face-to-face interactions. What is it they say—up to 90% of all communication is nonverbal? I don’t think emojis count.

So, I suggest breaking with conventional wisdom about using words in fresh, new, experimental ways and instead trotting out some old horses—the figurative language that worked for our parents’ generation. Hopefully, this will lead to the kind of clarity we’re missing when, in our writing, we not only allow but encourage phrases like, “Pensive as a fjord at dusk.” I have no idea what this phrase means, and I wrote it.

I predict that language that has stood the test of time will fit like a pair of old jeans. Or a hand in glove. Or a bed that I have made and, therefore and gladly, need to sleep in.

First, there’s “happy as a clam,” though come to think of it, what is going on here? As far as I can tell, it means “happy to have sand stuck in your soft parts,” which, I can say from experience, is a very loose usage of the term “happy.” Or maybe it refers to skin divers and means “happy to finally have something of value, which you worked hard for your whole life, only to then have it ripped away from you by a thief,” although historically the thief was naked. But an entirely different species, so probably not very attractive.

Not to worry! How about, “It went over like a lead balloon”? Maybe that’s kind of like the time when, during a board meeting when my children were little, I accidentally called my boss “Love” and then had to endure a long awkward pause, as if I had just put a balloon filled with lead (or something worse) on the table.

Or is it more like when your toddler lets go of the balloon, but instead of rising into the sky (causing crying louder than when Microwave the Cat died), it defies all expectations and heavily crashes through the floor of your kitchen and into the crawlspace, creating what you icily refer to as the “Laundry Chute” until your husband finally gets the hint and fixes it?

Come to think of it, a lot of these old aphorisms make very little sense. I know “put the pedal to the metal” means to drive faster, but why? At the carwash, I’ve prowled around, peeking when other people are vacuuming their cars, and before getting chased away I discovered that all cars are carpeted. Except that one car we had that molded on the inside so that the upholstery rotted away. Which brings to mind the phrase, “Snug as a bug in a rug,” though I am not sure exactly why any of us should care about the heat requirements of insects.

As for “pretty as a picture,” well, here are a few drawings from test subjects (aka my children):

“The Mom, Dad, and Sister in a grave. The baby brother lived and had to stay with his babysitter.”

“He is very happy because he has so many swords.”

“Chroo Story (True Story)” —of my daughter and a giant lint roller (who, despite the obvious, is smiling hugely).

“Fighting picture of good guys trapped in an underwater cage. The bad guys came and turned into poisonous snakes.”

Maybe the only old phrase that really holds true is “a picture is worth a thousand words.” I think that, if we look again at these real-life samples, we’ll see that it will take well over a thousand words—and dollars spent in therapy—to get to the root of whatever went wrong here. That’s why we writers get paid so much for our work.

All this confusion has, finally, led me to a new resolve: using only literal language. Just think how much clearer things will be! I’m off to work on my novel, where my character will “grow angry, the way you do when you get really, really mad,” and “feel sad, the deep, hurting sadness one feels when a grandparent dies, which one just did.”

You’re welcome, by the way. Our society needs this change like a fish needs a bicycle. I think.

*****

About the Author

I live and write in Seattle. You can find my work on faith, family, and writing at Literary Mama, Funny Times, and Mothers Always Write, among others, and online at dawnclaflin.wordpress.com.