A few days ago I received an e-mail from Merriam-Webster listing all the new words they’re adding to the dictionary this month. I see Heather at Ragtag Daily Prompthas decided to use one of these for today’s prompt. AMIRITE isn’t a word as much as a slurring together of several –something that’s been going on for quite awhile, as you will see in my little dialogue.
Mom squeezed Lanny’s shoulder. “You know our rules, Lanny. None of your friends stay here overnight without us knowing. When we’re away we want to know what’s going on here.”
“So I’m grounded,” Lanny mumbled. “Amirite?”
“Yes, you’re grounded. And can you please pronounce your words properly. It’s Am. I. Right.”
His sister Bella spoke up. “Don’t you know, Mom, that amirite is now a proper word? You can even look it up; it’s one of the newest words is Webster’s dictionary.”
“What next! People just can’t jumble a bunch of words together and call it a new word. The English language will degenerate into a series of mumbles that no one understands.”
“Too late, Mom,” Lanny replied. “People have been jamming words into each other for centuries. Like however. That’s in the dictionary.”
“And henceforth,” Dad put in. Mom glared at him.
“And moreover,” Bella added.
Mom sighed. “Nevertheless…”
“See! How many eons ago did someone run that one together?”
Bella grinned. “Yeah. Whensoever did that happen?”
Lanny waved his hand dramatically. “And furthermore, old Daniel added it to his dictionary.”
Mom shook her head. “I give up.”
“BUT,” Dad said sternly, there’ll be no amirites here. We’re Canadians and ‘EH’ will do nicely.”
“So I’m grounded, eh?”
“You got it.”
“Come on, Lanny,” said Bella. “Lets make ourselves some fluffernutters.”
Dad’s eyebrows went up. “What in the world…”
Lanny smirked. “You’ll have to look it up in the dictionary.”
Mom looked helplessly at Dad. “Will we ever understand them?”
The Ragtag Daily Prompt for today is DRACONIAN. I’ve concocted this tale as a response. I’ll admit that, like Tanelle, I’m still learning this lesson. 😉
Tanelle sighed into her cell phone. “I can’t go to the rink this morning, Marnie. Mom says I gotta clean up my room first.”
“Can’t you just tell her you’ll do it after you get home. I mean, she has to be reasonable. You aren’t a little kid anymore.”
“She says work has to come before play.”
“You can’t come roller blading because you have to clean up your room? That’s like…archaic! That’s a draconian rule!”
“Yeah, well, that’s where it’s at. I better go now. Talk to you later.” Tanelle clicked off her phone and went into the kitchen to grab some breakfast and maybe try one more pleading session.
“Marnie’s really choked that I can’t come this morning. She thinks, too, that I could easily clean up my room when I get back.”
“No doubt she does,” Mom replied. “Great minds think alike, right?” She grinned at Tanelle.
Tanelle grabbed a box of cereal from the cupboard. “You realize that my friends are all going to think your rules are draconian.” She poured some cereal in a bowl and got the milk from the fridge.
Mom was quiet for a minute. “Okay,” she said, “Let me ask you something. Imagine a young lady living on her own, in her own apartment, let’s say. And she has all these bills to pay: rent, electricity, maybe heating and water. Plus she has to buy groceries, maybe furniture and clothes. If she has a car she’ll need to pay for gas and licence; if not, she may have to buy bus tickets. Would you call it “draconian” that she has to pay all those expenses?”
“Of curse not. That’s just life.”
“Suppose she spends her money on fun things. She may want to pay her bills, but there are so many fun things waiting to be done and the money doesn’t last. So the bills pile up and credit card companies start calling, demanding payment. She hasn’t paid her rent, so the landlord is ready to kick her out of her apartment. She has no money for gas so she has to walk. Would she be in a big mess? Would she find her situation depressing?”
“Wouldn’t it be smart for her to pay her bills first, and then use what’s left for fun things?”
Tanelle heaved a sigh. “I think we’ve had this conversation before – or something just like it.”
“So work and play need to balance, just like income and outgo. If you spend your time at play, the work piles up. Learning this lesson is part of growing up and becoming responsible for yourself, your space, your messes. You may say, ‘I’ll do the fun thing now and work later,’ but there will always be some fun thing calling to you. The work left for ‘later’ piles up and in time you don’t know where to start. Like a stack of unpaid bills, the mess will finally depress you.”
“Mom, I know all this!” Tanelle protested.
“Then why is your room in such a mess?”
Tanelle got up with a huff and carried her bowl to her room where she could eat in peace. Tossing yesterday’s clothes off her chair, she plopped down at her desk and cleared enough space for her bowl of cereal.
“Why do moms have to nag so much,” she wondered as she finished her breakfast. Looking around she admitted that, yeah, her room was a tad messy. Then she remembered she needed to find that Style magazine and take it along to show Marnie. She’d been looking at it late last night; it was probably under the bed.
The scene her mom described flashed through her mind. She pictured this really messy apartment with a stack of bills on the table and the landlord pounding on the door. Gross! Well, that wouldn’t be her. She was smarter than that.
I sat down awhile ago to begin, a short story, thinking I’d like to do one of these three-short-paragraph ones, and I was going to pick a quote as my inspiration. But my plans went awry and I ended up with a long, maybe soppy, tale.
Here’s the quote I chose:
“What is defeat? Nothing but education, nothing but the first step to something better.” — Wendell Philips
And here’s the tale I wrote to illustrate it:
THE LOSER WINS
“Hey, girl. Why are you looking so sad? Lost your best friend.”
Finch looked up at the teen leaning on the door frame. One of the Senior boys. She swiped at a tear. “What do you care,” she grumbled.
“No, really, you look shattered. What’s bothering you.”
She glared at him, but could see he honestly wanted to know, so she spilled her sad story. “We played baseball at recess. I hate baseball! I’m not good at it and the others all know it, so when it came time to pick teams, I was picked last. In fact, I wasn’t really picked; I just ended up on Jenia’s team because I was the only one left. She rolled her eyes like ‘Do I have to.’ Then she says, ‘Okay, come on then,’ like I was such a zero. I was, like, totally humiliated.”
“Hey, that’s tough. Some people don’t do tact. They care zip about anyone else’s feelings.”
“That’s her. Miss Always-the-Leader. Then when we played, I was so nervous I couldn’t hit anything, and the others on the team grumbled straight time about me being so slow. The teacher told them to ‘be nice,’ but they just did it when she wasn’t looking. I don’t ever wanna go back to school again.”
“I know where you’re coming from. I got the same thing when I was a twig.”
“You! But you’re a natural at baseball. I’ve seen you play and you make great hits and catches.”
“Now, yeah, but I remember singing the same song as you. Back when I was in grade school, I was the last one picked. Couldn’t run, couldn’t hit. But I really wanted to play so I joined a team playing sandlot baseball. It was misery. I was slow; I fumbled; if I hit the ball it was luck.”
Finch stared at him. “I don’t believe it. What happened!”
“I was ready to quit after the second game, but one of the dads, Bill, was acting as umpire, and he saw I was in the dumps. So after the game he came over and gave me a hug. Then he rattled off this bit of wisdom. I’ve typed it up and pasted it on my wall.”
‘What is defeat? Nothing but education, nothing but the first step to something better’.
“I got a life-lesson that day, thanks to Bill, who cared enough to help me out. He told me I wasn’t going to just drop into a game and be a star. He said, ‘If you wanna get good at baseball – or anything else in life – you gotta work at it.’ He got me and a couple of other boys to meet him a couple evenings a week at the ball park and we’d practice. He brought his young boys and met us there for a few weeks, explained the game, the moves, and worked with us. After that we went back on the team and all three of us are good players now.”
“Wow! You were lucky. Not all dads are like that.”
“I didn’t have a dad – and I needed one badly. I think he caught that. Same with the others. He did what he could to set us, and his own boys, on a better path.” He fell silent and his smile told Finch he was remembering those good times.
“And maybe you got an education today, if you take it that way.”
“Huh! So what have I learned? I’m a loser? Nobody wants me on their team?”
“You found out you can’t just jump in and be awesome. You can’t be a fast runner if you don’t regularly run. You can’t be a great hitter if you don’t regularly work at it. Have you got a friend or kid brother or sister that’ll play ball with you sometimes so you can get some practice pitching and hitting?”
“And take up running. Work at it when you have some free time and you’ll get faster. I promise you. What that dad told me back then has held true for everything I’ve tried so far. Playing ball. Good grades. Making friends. Staying out of trouble. Life isn’t going to hand it to you; you gotta work for it.”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“So don’t let today get you down. Call it an education. Do something with what you’ve learned.” He reached down to give her a hand up.
A fresh wave of courage washed over Finch. She was ready to begin again. She reached up and took his hand. “I’ll try.” She let him pull her to her feet. “Thanks a lot…for what you said…and for caring.”
“Sure. See you around.” With a quick wave he headed off.
If Finch hadn’t seen him on the senior boys’ team, she could almost have believed he was an angel.
Pierce, relaxing on the sofa, looked over at his sister who was studying some paper. “Whatcha readin’, Lilly?”
“Something I just downloaded — this is some expert’s advice on how to get to know people better.”
“You really want to?”
“Of course. We should take an interest in other people or we’ll become totally self-centered.” She looked at him pointedly.
“Yeah, right. And I suppose you gotta ask all kinds of nosy questions, like, ‘Did you love your mother?’ Good luck with that.” Pierce popped the tab on his soft drink and took a swig.
“Well, this expert has given readers a list of questions that ‘should stimulate an intelligent discussion.’ Like this one. ‘Would you call yourself a pedantic person?’ How would you answer that one, Pierce.”
“Yes. No. Maybe. Dumb question.”
Lilly rolled her eyes. “This discussion hasn’t reached ‘intelligent’ yet.”
Lilly typed the word into her cell phone and read the definition. “Pedantic: ‘excessively concerned with minor details or rules; over-scrupulous, persnickety.’ I guess it means someone who sweats the small stuff and gets the fine details right.”
“I’m not much into fine details.” He guzzled more pop.
“You can say that again. Your room’s a tornado aftermath.”
“I can find things,” he protested. “But sometimes I do sweat the small stuff — like on a math exam. So it depends.”
Lilly sighed. “According to this expert, a question like this should lead to a scintillating conversation.”