THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, November 11, 1994 TAG: 9411110087
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E14 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Jennifer Dziura
LENGTH: Medium: 72 lines
THE PEOPLE OF France are so worried about the purity of their language that if a native were to use an expression such as ``le mini-mart'' or ``le video-rental,'' other French people would throw croissants at him and insult his mother in Old French.
In America, however, our attitude toward language is just the opposite. We create hyphenated words whenever the mood strikes us; our public officials post signs that say ``Please drive slow;'' and we toss around words usurped from other languages like we're dropping names of royalty.
As one Infoline caller pointed out, we don't hold American English too highly. The caller left a message complaining about a Virginia Beach motel with a cute little pink overhang with the words ``Efficency Apartments.''
Such examples are abundant. At the Oceanfront in September, I noticed several kiosks where one could purchase a frozen dessert called an ``Itialian Ice.'' This delicacy apparently originated in a country called ``Itialy,'' which is probably, in a parallel dimension, located somewhere near ``Grease.''
I assume, however, that these errors were unintentional, and it is difficult to dislike an entrepreneur because he or she is a bad speller. But for all the complaining we do about the state of education in our country, deliberate misspellings by marketing executives seem like blatant hypocrisy.
``Mor Hits, Mor Savings, Mor Fun,'' promises a poster in the music department at Phar-Mor. I find this intensely annoying, but perhaps that's just my own neurosis. Somewhere, however, some child looking for one of those CDs wherein Alvin and the Chipmunks sing about going to the circus is going to see this poster and embark on a career of reprehensible spelling, possibly dropping out of high school and becoming one of those pitiable creatures who is unable to locate Canada on a map.
Another atrocity that inflames my linguistic neurosis is the manner in which some people use the term ``What's up?'' The expression is colloquial enough as it is - literally, an appropriate response would be ``Up is defined as the direction opposite the pull of gravity.'' I'm not whining about that, however, because native English speakers generally know what a person means when he states ``What's up?''
What I am whining about is the use of ``What's up?'' as a casual greeting rather than a question. I truly fail to see the logic in flying past someone in a crowded hallway at a speed classified by most gym teachers as ``sprinting'' and saying ``What's up?'' as if the recipient of the remark had more than a nanosecond in which to respond. Perhaps it's just that neurosis again, but I believe that the only appropriate time to ask `What's up?'' is in a situation that does not require one's friend or loved one to casually yell ``My cat died!'' as you rush off to Foods Management class.
Sometimes, however, this statement will be uttered to an individual who also holds the belief that ``What's up?'' is not a question but a synonym for ``Hey, I know you,'' in which case an exchange such as the following is likely to take place:
Harvey: ``What's up?''
Cornelia: ``What's up?''
Now, how much sense does that make? If someone inquired of you ``What's your favorite color?'' would you see fit to respond ``What's your favorite color?'' and then run off to Foods Management class without another word from either of you?
This being said, I'm going to go play with my Spelling Ace, and if you say ``What's up?'' to me, I'm going to ignore you. MEMO: Jennifer Dziura is a junior at Cox High School. Her column appears
bimonthly. If you'd like to provide commentary, call INFOLINE at
640-5555 and enter category 6778 or write to her at 4565 Virginia Beach
Blvd., Virginia Beach, Va. 23462. by CNB