Happy Bastille Day!
Look it up.
After not having seen Jeopardy! at all in several months (can you say 'cold turkey'?), I watched an episode on Friday and answered three questions the contestants couldn't, namely:
What is Bewitched?
What is Bonanza?
What is (are?) the New York Mets?
The three contestants were all Gen Z'ers, and host Ken Jennings said they made him feel old.
Me too.
Of course, I am old, but that is beside the point.
Or maybe that is the point. At least I know what Bastille Day is.
Seacrest out.
Monday, July 14, 2025
Thursday, July 10, 2025
It drives me crazy
...when place names are mispronounced by news readers on television.
For example, yesterday the small town of Alvarado, Texas, was in the news. This town is very close to Mansfield, Texas, where I was raised or reared or grew up or however you think I should say it. Amost everyone who mentioned the town on television news broadcasts mispronounced it. For the record, even though in Spanish Alvarado rhymes with bravado, and even though the town was named after Alvarado in the Mexican state of Veracruz, the correct pronunciation of the town in Texas rhymes with Play-Doh or Day-Glo or Laredo, take your pick. All day long on the news channel the people were saying 'al-vuh-RAH-doh' until 4 p.m., when Will Cain, a man who actually is from Texas and broadcasts from Texas, said 'al-vuh-RAY-do' and I felt vindicated. At 7 p.m. I heard Laura Ingraham say it correctly too, but everyone else was back to 'al-vuh-RAH-do'.
I have friends from California who become agitated when people say Paso Robles wrong. Robles does not rhyme with 'go blaze' but with the English word 'nobles'.
I guess it depends on whether you aim for Spanish purism or go with the flow of the local populace.
There is Spanish and then there is Spanish.
In Texas, the San Jacinto monument near Houston is pronounced 'san juh-SIN-toh' or even 'san juh-SIN-tuh'. But actress Betty White, who lived in California, referred to it once as 'san hah-CHEEN-to', which I guess is technically correct but made Texans everywhere roll their eyes.
I have the strange feeling we have discussed these things before, but I may be mistaken.
Waxahachie (another town in Texas) is not WACKS-uh-hatch-ee, it's WALKS-uh-hatch-ee.
The G in Nacogdoches is not pronounced. And the word sounds nothing like the town of Natchitoches a few miles away in Louisiana even though they are named for the same Native American tribe (I think). In Texas it's 'nack-uh-DOH-chiz' and in Louisiana it's 'NACK-uh-tish'. I'm not even kidding.
The Brazos River in Texas is 'BRAZZ-us', not 'BRAH-zose'.
People in Illinois do not pronounce the S in the name of their state but a lot of other people do.
In Florida, Boca Raton is not 'boh-ka ruh-TAHN', it's 'boh-ka ruh-TONE'. Trust me, I lived there for six years.
Don't even get me started on Mackinac Island, Michigan, or Sault Ste. Marie (also in Michigan), or Dahlonega, Georgia, or Poughkeepsie, New York, or Puyallup, Washington.
In North Carolina, the town of Beaufort is 'BOH-fort' but the South Carolina town of the same name is 'BEW-fert'.
Call me anything you like (and I've been called a lot of things), just don't call me late for dinner.
What place-name mispronunciations get yourknickers in a twist dander up?
For example, yesterday the small town of Alvarado, Texas, was in the news. This town is very close to Mansfield, Texas, where I was raised or reared or grew up or however you think I should say it. Amost everyone who mentioned the town on television news broadcasts mispronounced it. For the record, even though in Spanish Alvarado rhymes with bravado, and even though the town was named after Alvarado in the Mexican state of Veracruz, the correct pronunciation of the town in Texas rhymes with Play-Doh or Day-Glo or Laredo, take your pick. All day long on the news channel the people were saying 'al-vuh-RAH-doh' until 4 p.m., when Will Cain, a man who actually is from Texas and broadcasts from Texas, said 'al-vuh-RAY-do' and I felt vindicated. At 7 p.m. I heard Laura Ingraham say it correctly too, but everyone else was back to 'al-vuh-RAH-do'.
I have friends from California who become agitated when people say Paso Robles wrong. Robles does not rhyme with 'go blaze' but with the English word 'nobles'.
I guess it depends on whether you aim for Spanish purism or go with the flow of the local populace.
There is Spanish and then there is Spanish.
In Texas, the San Jacinto monument near Houston is pronounced 'san juh-SIN-toh' or even 'san juh-SIN-tuh'. But actress Betty White, who lived in California, referred to it once as 'san hah-CHEEN-to', which I guess is technically correct but made Texans everywhere roll their eyes.
I have the strange feeling we have discussed these things before, but I may be mistaken.
Waxahachie (another town in Texas) is not WACKS-uh-hatch-ee, it's WALKS-uh-hatch-ee.
The G in Nacogdoches is not pronounced. And the word sounds nothing like the town of Natchitoches a few miles away in Louisiana even though they are named for the same Native American tribe (I think). In Texas it's 'nack-uh-DOH-chiz' and in Louisiana it's 'NACK-uh-tish'. I'm not even kidding.
The Brazos River in Texas is 'BRAZZ-us', not 'BRAH-zose'.
People in Illinois do not pronounce the S in the name of their state but a lot of other people do.
In Florida, Boca Raton is not 'boh-ka ruh-TAHN', it's 'boh-ka ruh-TONE'. Trust me, I lived there for six years.
Don't even get me started on Mackinac Island, Michigan, or Sault Ste. Marie (also in Michigan), or Dahlonega, Georgia, or Poughkeepsie, New York, or Puyallup, Washington.
In North Carolina, the town of Beaufort is 'BOH-fort' but the South Carolina town of the same name is 'BEW-fert'.
Call me anything you like (and I've been called a lot of things), just don't call me late for dinner.
What place-name mispronunciations get your
Tuesday, July 8, 2025
It's funny (funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha)
...how some facts stick in the brain and others don't. Take addresses, for example. I know that my aunt lived at 405 West Avenue in Jenkintown, Pennsylvania, before moving to 403 Linden St. and I know that her telephone number was TUrner 6-9280 before there was ever such a thing as an area code. She has been dead since 1987.
My grandfather lived at 321 Runnymede Avenue in Jenkintown for many years before moving to my uncle's house at 325 West Avenue, a block from my aunt. My grandfather died in 1970 and my uncle died in 1983.
I remember that after Mama, Daddy, and I moved from 61 Larch St. in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, to Fort Worth, Texas, on a train (it took three days) in August 1947 (I was six), we stayed for a few days at the Majestic Hotel, then rented some rooms in the Arlington Heights section of the city, and eventually rented a whole house at 2332 Chandler Drive East. Had we stayed there, I would have eventually graduated from Paschal High School, but we didn't stay there. A few months later my parents bought an old house on three acres of land outside of Mansfield, Texas (population 774). Our address was Route 1, Box 59. A few years later, without ever having moved an inch, the countyside around Mansfield had grown so much that our address was changed to Route 1, Box 92.
Our first telephone in Mansfield was mounted on the wall and did not have a dial. It was equipped with a hand-operated crank on the side to ring the operator, who completed the connection through, I suppose, a switchboard. Our number was 157J-3. The -3 meant that because we were on a "party line" of at least eight families the indication of an incoming call to our house was three short rings. That operator really earned her money. The telephone company eventually replaced the crankbox on the wall with a phone that sat on the desk; it had a handset we picked up to talk through and listen with but it didn't have a dial. The operator came on the line when a person lifted the handset from its cradle and would complete the connection. Eventually we got still another telephone with both a handset AND a rotary dial. Our telephone number was not nearly as long as my aunt's TUrner 6-9280, no sir, it was short and sweet, 4726. As fans of Hee-Haw will remember, that is an even shorter phone number than Junior Samples had (BR549).
Nowadays we enter numbers into our smartphone's directory and just press the name of the person we want to reach. Or we can simply say, "Siri, call Grandma." As a result, I don't know anyone's telephone number any more.
We've come a long way, baby.
I think.
In the U.S., people say "Hello?" but in the U.K. they say "Are you there?" (or used to). Someone I know used to say "It's your nickel, start talking" and someone else said simply "Speak." It takes all kinds.
I will now close this fascinating post (I can hear you yawning) by telling you the first words spoken into a telephone mouthpiece, according to what I read. In a demonstration to others of his new invention, Alexander Graham Bell said to his assistant, Thomas A. Watson, who was in another room, "Mr. Watson, come here. I want to see you." It happened in Boston, Massachusetts, on March 10, 1876.
My grandfather lived at 321 Runnymede Avenue in Jenkintown for many years before moving to my uncle's house at 325 West Avenue, a block from my aunt. My grandfather died in 1970 and my uncle died in 1983.
I remember that after Mama, Daddy, and I moved from 61 Larch St. in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, to Fort Worth, Texas, on a train (it took three days) in August 1947 (I was six), we stayed for a few days at the Majestic Hotel, then rented some rooms in the Arlington Heights section of the city, and eventually rented a whole house at 2332 Chandler Drive East. Had we stayed there, I would have eventually graduated from Paschal High School, but we didn't stay there. A few months later my parents bought an old house on three acres of land outside of Mansfield, Texas (population 774). Our address was Route 1, Box 59. A few years later, without ever having moved an inch, the countyside around Mansfield had grown so much that our address was changed to Route 1, Box 92.
Our first telephone in Mansfield was mounted on the wall and did not have a dial. It was equipped with a hand-operated crank on the side to ring the operator, who completed the connection through, I suppose, a switchboard. Our number was 157J-3. The -3 meant that because we were on a "party line" of at least eight families the indication of an incoming call to our house was three short rings. That operator really earned her money. The telephone company eventually replaced the crankbox on the wall with a phone that sat on the desk; it had a handset we picked up to talk through and listen with but it didn't have a dial. The operator came on the line when a person lifted the handset from its cradle and would complete the connection. Eventually we got still another telephone with both a handset AND a rotary dial. Our telephone number was not nearly as long as my aunt's TUrner 6-9280, no sir, it was short and sweet, 4726. As fans of Hee-Haw will remember, that is an even shorter phone number than Junior Samples had (BR549).
Nowadays we enter numbers into our smartphone's directory and just press the name of the person we want to reach. Or we can simply say, "Siri, call Grandma." As a result, I don't know anyone's telephone number any more.
We've come a long way, baby.
I think.
In the U.S., people say "Hello?" but in the U.K. they say "Are you there?" (or used to). Someone I know used to say "It's your nickel, start talking" and someone else said simply "Speak." It takes all kinds.
I will now close this fascinating post (I can hear you yawning) by telling you the first words spoken into a telephone mouthpiece, according to what I read. In a demonstration to others of his new invention, Alexander Graham Bell said to his assistant, Thomas A. Watson, who was in another room, "Mr. Watson, come here. I want to see you." It happened in Boston, Massachusetts, on March 10, 1876.
Wednesday, July 2, 2025
You may also learn something about vegetables
In a comment on the preceding post, kylie (a longtime reader who lives in Australia) asked, "How on earth does one diagram a sentence?"
Two things about kylie became immediately obvious to me:
1. She is much younger than me.
2. She never studied English grammar under Mr. D.P. Morris in Mansfield, Texas, USA.
i did a little searching online, and out of all the tutorials I found I like the following article best:
Diagramming Sentences 101: Step-by-Step Guide
If anyone out there is wondering, like kylie, how on earth one diagrams a sentence, click on that link and you will find out.
You may also learn something about vegetables.
Two things about kylie became immediately obvious to me:
1. She is much younger than me.
2. She never studied English grammar under Mr. D.P. Morris in Mansfield, Texas, USA.
i did a little searching online, and out of all the tutorials I found I like the following article best:
Diagramming Sentences 101: Step-by-Step Guide
If anyone out there is wondering, like kylie, how on earth one diagrams a sentence, click on that link and you will find out.
You may also learn something about vegetables.
Friday, June 27, 2025
Much ado about nothing
I have been posting to this blog for nearly 18 years now. I have published so many posts and discarded so many potential posts that it is difficult to remember what I have actually told you versus what I may have intended to tell you but thought better of and discarded before it ever saw the light of day. Adding up all of the yearly totals in the archive list over there in the sidebar produces the number 2,286 posts, and doing the math (British, maths) reveals that my average annual production of blogposts is 127 posts. Some years are higher than others, of course, and some are lower. In fact, dear reader, that is the very definition of average.
For a while I included Feedjit in the sidebar and enjoyed keping count of the number of countries from which readers came and seeing the little flags Feedjit displayed. If memory serves (and it obviously doesn't), the country count was either ninety-something or one hundred thirty-something. After a while the little game I had invented lost its attraction and I deleted Feedjit from the sidebar.
For a long time I didn't include labels in my posts, then for another very long time I did, then for a third very long time I didn't again, and now I do when I remember to.
Please don't tell me I shouldn't end a sentence with a preposition. Someone once criticized Winston Churchill for doing so and he replied that that was the sort of criticism up with which he would not put. I think that people who never end sentences with prepositions don't know what language is all ABOUT, and don't know what prepositions are FOR.
You may try to diagram the sentences in the preceding paragraph if you care to, but no extra credit will be given.
Why am I telling you all this?
I don't know, but a shrink (British, psychologist) could probably give you reasons. I could even recommend one, my first cousin, Dr. Philip F. Caracena, but since he died in 2016 at the age of 81 he probably isn't taking new patients at this time.
I am in rare form this afternoon.
I think the reason is that I am composing this post on my desktop computer's keyboard rather than on my smartphone, and my fingers can almost keep up with my mind on a full-sized keyboard. They lag disappointingly behind my mind when I'm using my smartphone keyboard. Ergo, I am somewhat giddy at being able to keep up with my thought processes (I am a fast typist) and am capturing all the flotsam and jetsam along with the pithy stuff.
If you have encountered any pithy stuff so far, please let me know where it is.
I will now close and post this, my 2,287th post, because Mrs. RWP (the lovely Ellie) and I have to get ready to go to our friend's house later today for homemade pizza and root beer floats. The basic food groups are so important, n'est-ce pas?
Truth in posting: No alcohol was consumed during the creation of this post. I'm just happy to be alive.
For a while I included Feedjit in the sidebar and enjoyed keping count of the number of countries from which readers came and seeing the little flags Feedjit displayed. If memory serves (and it obviously doesn't), the country count was either ninety-something or one hundred thirty-something. After a while the little game I had invented lost its attraction and I deleted Feedjit from the sidebar.
For a long time I didn't include labels in my posts, then for another very long time I did, then for a third very long time I didn't again, and now I do when I remember to.
Please don't tell me I shouldn't end a sentence with a preposition. Someone once criticized Winston Churchill for doing so and he replied that that was the sort of criticism up with which he would not put. I think that people who never end sentences with prepositions don't know what language is all ABOUT, and don't know what prepositions are FOR.
You may try to diagram the sentences in the preceding paragraph if you care to, but no extra credit will be given.
Why am I telling you all this?
I don't know, but a shrink (British, psychologist) could probably give you reasons. I could even recommend one, my first cousin, Dr. Philip F. Caracena, but since he died in 2016 at the age of 81 he probably isn't taking new patients at this time.
I am in rare form this afternoon.
I think the reason is that I am composing this post on my desktop computer's keyboard rather than on my smartphone, and my fingers can almost keep up with my mind on a full-sized keyboard. They lag disappointingly behind my mind when I'm using my smartphone keyboard. Ergo, I am somewhat giddy at being able to keep up with my thought processes (I am a fast typist) and am capturing all the flotsam and jetsam along with the pithy stuff.
If you have encountered any pithy stuff so far, please let me know where it is.
I will now close and post this, my 2,287th post, because Mrs. RWP (the lovely Ellie) and I have to get ready to go to our friend's house later today for homemade pizza and root beer floats. The basic food groups are so important, n'est-ce pas?
Truth in posting: No alcohol was consumed during the creation of this post. I'm just happy to be alive.
Monday, June 23, 2025
Ah, yes, I remember it well
Whether you know it or not, June 23, 1969 was a very important day. On that day IBM (International Business Machines) "unbundled" its software and services from its hardware. Up until that day, if you bought IBM hardware, you also were required to buy IBM software. With a stroke of the pen at IBM's corporate headquarters in Armonk, Westchester County, New York, and a little help from a lawsuit initiated by the United States Department Of Justice, the computer software industry was born.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
I thought you would want to know.
After being honorably discharged from a four-years-and-nine-months stint in the United Stated Air Force, during which time I had received training as a computer programmer, I was hired by the IBM Corporation on November 1, 1965, and began working for it/them in Poughkeepsie, New York. Almost exactly three years later, the company transferred me to its brand new faciliy (evidence: we were housed in temporary trailers for months until the new building was built) in Boca Raton, Florida.
On February 1, 1969, I flew to Stockholm, Sweden, and worked at the IBM facility on Lidingö until March 1, at which time I flew back to Boca Raton (and, boy, were my arms tired).
The next big date in my work history for I've Been Moved is the "unbundling announcement" (as it was called) on June 23, 1969. Later events inclue my transfer to Atlanta, Georgia in 1975 and my resignation from the company in 1978, and my re-entrance into the company in 1997, and my retirement from the company in 2000. None of this is probably of any interest to anyone but me.
As a matter of record, I also posted about the unbundling in two other posts, in 2014 and 2016. You can read those posts if you type "unbundling" into the search box at the top left of the blog's header. You may even learn what a troglodyte is.
Onward and upward to more important things, or as Buzz Lightyear often said, "To infinity and beyond!"
That is, Ta-Ta For Now.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
I thought you would want to know.
After being honorably discharged from a four-years-and-nine-months stint in the United Stated Air Force, during which time I had received training as a computer programmer, I was hired by the IBM Corporation on November 1, 1965, and began working for it/them in Poughkeepsie, New York. Almost exactly three years later, the company transferred me to its brand new faciliy (evidence: we were housed in temporary trailers for months until the new building was built) in Boca Raton, Florida.
On February 1, 1969, I flew to Stockholm, Sweden, and worked at the IBM facility on Lidingö until March 1, at which time I flew back to Boca Raton (and, boy, were my arms tired).
The next big date in my work history for I've Been Moved is the "unbundling announcement" (as it was called) on June 23, 1969. Later events inclue my transfer to Atlanta, Georgia in 1975 and my resignation from the company in 1978, and my re-entrance into the company in 1997, and my retirement from the company in 2000. None of this is probably of any interest to anyone but me.
As a matter of record, I also posted about the unbundling in two other posts, in 2014 and 2016. You can read those posts if you type "unbundling" into the search box at the top left of the blog's header. You may even learn what a troglodyte is.
Onward and upward to more important things, or as Buzz Lightyear often said, "To infinity and beyond!"
That is, Ta-Ta For Now.
Friday, June 20, 2025
Nostalgia Porn, anyone?
I am not a fan of "country music" because I often find it twangy and nasal and performed poorly. But I heard a song recently that has been around since 1972 that I really like. You may have known it for years but it was brand new to me.
Someone said many years ago that a great country song consists of three chords and the truth. That phrase is now inscribed on a wall of the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville, Tennessee.
When brothers Harold Reid and Don Reid wrote the words that became "Class Of '57" they documented truth.
"Class Of '57"
Tommy's selling used cars, Nancy's fixing hair
Harvey runs a grocery store and Margaret doesn't care
Jerry drives a truck for Sears and Charlotte's on the make
And Paul sells life insurance and part-time real estate
Helen is a hostess, Frank works at the mill
Janet teaches grade school and prob'ly always will
Bob works for the city and Jack's in lab research
And Peggy plays organ at the Presbyterian Church
And the class of '57 had its dreams
Oh, we all thought we'd change the world with our great works and deeds
Or maybe we just thought the world would change to fit our needs
The class of '57 had its dreams
Betty runs a trailer park, Jan sells Tupperware
Randy's on an insane ward and Mary's on welfare
Charlie took a job with Ford and Joe took Freddie's wife
Charlotte took a millionaire and Freddie took his life
John is big in cattle, Ray is deep in debt
Where Mavis finally wound up is anybody's bet
Linda married Sonny, Brenda married me
And the class of all of us is just a part of history
And the class of '57 had its dreams
But living life day to day is never like it seems
Things get complicated when you get past eighteen
But the class of '57 had its dreams
Oh, the class of '57 had its dreams
(end of song)
Truth in blogging: I was not a part of the class of '57, I graduated in the class of '58. But the song resonated with me nevertheless. Apparently I have reached the age where what might be described as Nosalgia Porn is attractive. My date on the night we graduated actually was named Brenda, but she didn't marry me.
No matter when you graduated, I think every class has had its dreams, and every class looks back with a combination of fondness, accomplishment, failure, and regret.
What thinkest you?
To hear the song performed, and performed well, enter Class of 57 Brothers Of The Heart into your favorite (British, favourite) search engine.
Someone said many years ago that a great country song consists of three chords and the truth. That phrase is now inscribed on a wall of the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville, Tennessee.
When brothers Harold Reid and Don Reid wrote the words that became "Class Of '57" they documented truth.
"Class Of '57"
Tommy's selling used cars, Nancy's fixing hair
Harvey runs a grocery store and Margaret doesn't care
Jerry drives a truck for Sears and Charlotte's on the make
And Paul sells life insurance and part-time real estate
Helen is a hostess, Frank works at the mill
Janet teaches grade school and prob'ly always will
Bob works for the city and Jack's in lab research
And Peggy plays organ at the Presbyterian Church
And the class of '57 had its dreams
Oh, we all thought we'd change the world with our great works and deeds
Or maybe we just thought the world would change to fit our needs
The class of '57 had its dreams
Betty runs a trailer park, Jan sells Tupperware
Randy's on an insane ward and Mary's on welfare
Charlie took a job with Ford and Joe took Freddie's wife
Charlotte took a millionaire and Freddie took his life
John is big in cattle, Ray is deep in debt
Where Mavis finally wound up is anybody's bet
Linda married Sonny, Brenda married me
And the class of all of us is just a part of history
And the class of '57 had its dreams
But living life day to day is never like it seems
Things get complicated when you get past eighteen
But the class of '57 had its dreams
Oh, the class of '57 had its dreams
(end of song)
Truth in blogging: I was not a part of the class of '57, I graduated in the class of '58. But the song resonated with me nevertheless. Apparently I have reached the age where what might be described as Nosalgia Porn is attractive. My date on the night we graduated actually was named Brenda, but she didn't marry me.
No matter when you graduated, I think every class has had its dreams, and every class looks back with a combination of fondness, accomplishment, failure, and regret.
What thinkest you?
To hear the song performed, and performed well, enter Class of 57 Brothers Of The Heart into your favorite (British, favourite) search engine.
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