Tag Archives: words

There doesn’t have to be a point

Out of the blue, I remembered this blog. It’s been over a year since I posted, and even then it was the tiniest of essays–a micro-essay, I suppose.

I’ve fallen out of the habit of creative writing.

Partly it’s because I don’t have a lot to say these days–so many words out there floating around already, who needs more? Partly it’s because my little writing community drifted apart–I’m not the only one to have essentially retired from writing. And partly because I’ve become more enamored with taking literal snapshots of life via my camera than with weaving imagined snapshots into words.

Though all this is true, I’ve stopped short of closing down this site.

I am finished with writing.” I thought as I skimmed through the archives. “What’s the point of keeping the blog?”

But even as I felt a momentary decision to close it down,  I knew there doesn’t have to be point to keeping this blog. The truth is that the words will return one of these days–and they’ll need someplace to rest.




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One of the snowboarders sitting on the run yelled to me, “Dude! Are you okay?”  Tales_021413_hipsters

“Yes, thanks!” I called back. I was on my back, sliding down the slope in a slow-motion rotation, wondering when my edges could catch enough to bring me to a stop. It was a gentle gravitational journey with enough time to think a bit.

“Did that kid really call me ‘Dude’? How nice of him.”

Sakeaus Bankson, editor of The Ski Journal, opened the Winter 2012-2013  issue with a description I can relate to: “I am a Grammarian. I am a bookworm. I am a word nerd.” He then laments his inevitable linguistic decline into ski-speak, which “is not the language of an educated, sane person—this [is] bro-cab, a dialect I had spent high school despising.” It’s a force that Bankson admits he’s powerless to forestall when the winter arrives, but he still tries to resist. I understand why.

I was talking with other skiers one day recently and realized how deep I am in ski jargon myself. “Bluebird day,” “catching an edge,” “taking a line,” “lifties,” “going uptop,” “catching air,” “chop,” “taking a core shot,” “avi debris” – these have naturally entered my conversation over the years because that’s just what happens. A specialized vocabulary is always part of joining a community with shared interests. There was a time when I’d hear conversations sprinkled with these terms and not follow everything being said. Now I join in that sprinkling without giving it much thought.

What I continue to successfully resist, however, is the bro-cab. Maybe it’s a generational thing. I’m in my mid-40s, so “shredding the gnar” or “taking a sick run” or being “stoked” about the “epic pow” just sounds weird coming from me. It reminds me of my mom kidding around with us, adopting Valley Girl speak at the most embarrassing moments.

More likely, though, it’s because I’m a word nerd, too. I can’t even write a text message without making it into a proper sentence. No shortcuts for me.

Bro-cab is full of shortcuts. It’s a code that I haven’t fully cracked. It’s a code with highly personalized meaning. What is a “sick” run? Depends upon who’s saying it. What is “epic pow” as opposed to regular powder? Who knows? It’s all a matter of taste.

And that’s where my natural interest in words severs me forever from being a Dude. Once you start studying the etymology of bro-cab you’re hopeless. You won’t even come close to getting a membership card to that community.

But that’s okay. I’m, like, totally over it.

*This essay was originally posted on the OutdoorsNW website in Winter 2013. http://outdoorsnw.com/2013/tales-from-the-lift-line-vi-dude/


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“I know you don’t like conflict”*

Long ago, I stood with a friend in someone’s kitchen engaging in a casual debate about a social issue. It was during the “welfare moms” era of the Clinton Administration. A few cases of misuse of public funds had been in the news and suddenly people receiving assistance, especially single mothers on welfare, were labeled “those kinds of people.”

This friend was on the bandwagon, I was decidedly not, so we passed the time batting our opinions back and forth. But every circular argument runs its course and finally I said, “Well, it looks like we should just agree to disagree on this one.” She wasn’t ready to give up. She kept going on until I said, “Honestly, I’m not going to change my mind. You’re not going to change your mind. So let’s just move on.”

“Oh,” she said dismissively. “Well, I know you don’t like conflict, so fine.” And that was that.

That “I know you don’t like conflict” comment annoyed me because she didn’t get the point. I enjoy a good back-and-forth debate. What I don’t enjoy is stubbornly retracing the same argumentative path over and over again with no end in sight. Those kinds of debates have no intrinsic value for either party. There’s no point in it other than hearing oneself go on and on and on.

Years before this kitchen scene with my friend, I came triumphantly home from college for Thanksgiving dinner. My eyes had been opened to the sorry state of the world by many things, not the least of which were my South African Literature class (South Africa was still under apartheid rule), my Martin Luther King/Gandhi philosophy class, and my participation in the fledgling AIDS Speakers Bureau on campus. I was full of new insights, a broader world view. I was a totally new person! It was not unusual for our family to engage in some debates at the dinner table, but this time instead of being the youngest spectator in the family fold, I was armed with enough knowledge to be a full-fledged combatant if necessary.

This is not to say I came home with the express purpose of indoctrinating the family into my new point of view, but I was primed for the soapbox. And when the conversation turned towards social issues I leapt upon that soapbox with gusto, delivered a passionate speech, got patiently challenged by some family members, and eventually stormed off to my room in a rage.

I stewed for what seemed like a long time, thinking about how clueless they all were and how unfair and how their attitudes were what was wrong with this country and how I couldn’t wait to get back to school.

And then came a knock on the door. It was my mother, my loving and very reasonable mother. She sat on my bed and said, “Honey, we are so proud of how well you’re doing in school and we’re excited that you are so passionate about what you believe in. But there’s one thing you need to know.”

“What.” I said, sulky and not particularly interested in what she had to say.

“You need to understand that no matter how passionately you feel about something, people won’t listen to you until you show you are willing to listen to them, too.”

The English 101 students always groaned when I announced the list of banned argument paper topics:

  • legalizing marijuana
  • lowering the drinking age
  • abortion
  • creationism
  • euthanasia
  • gun control
  • flag burning
  • death penalty
  • Affirmative Action

The protest was inevitable. “But that’s so unfair! Those are all the best topics! Why can’t we write about them?”

“This is why,” I’d say. “First of all, I can list, off the top of my head, this very minute, what your reasons for OR against any of these topics will be. Go ahead, pick one.”     

And they would test me. I’d recite the top three arguments for and against each topic to a mix of their laughter and groans. Then, I’d lay down my final point: “How many of you chose these topics for every argument paper you wrote in high school?” They didn’t need to respond; their sheepish grins were answer enough.             

When I listen to current arguments about politics (Oy, the government shutdown) or read what one side said about the other side (it doesn’t matter which, they all do it) or wonder for the umpteenth time why reasonable people pay any attention to photo op rants by politicians playing games, I think back. I remember my overzealous college self, my more considered post-grad. self, my naive students who weren’t yet sure what their opinions really were.

And then I wish for a moment that I could require masses of people to write a typical English 101 argument paper.

The Assignment:  Choose a very narrow topic that you care about and want to learn more about. Do not choose anything that is on the Banned Topics List, but you can look at them to see why they are examples of topics that are too broad. Figure out what your opinion is about your narrowed topic and then imagine how you would explain and defend your opinion to a reader who does not agree with you.

You should have 3-5 reasons for your point of view and provide concrete evidence to support each of the reasons. Be specific! Vague statements like “but it’s tradition” or “it’s always been this way” don’t count. Using source material is a good way to support your point of view, but be careful. Choose sources that are objective and have been well researched. Avoid sources that are vague or unsubstantiated. Only use source material that is reputable, but look at it with a critical eye.

Purpose:  Despite its name, the purpose of learning to write an Argument Paper is to hone your own critical skills and to present your opinions to an audience who may disagree with you, not to convert people to your side. Your goal is not to change your reader’s mind–chances are slim that you will–but to present your point of view so that the reader can say, “I still disagree with you, but I see where you’re coming from.”

Audience: Imagine a person who disagrees with you, but who you respect and like. Write your argument in a reasonable, thoughtful, and respectful way. Do not attack, insult, or belittle their point of view even if you disagree vehemently. Disagreement itself is fine. In fact, taking counterarguments and breaking them down is an excellent way to show your point of view is stronger. You can be strong, assertive, and clear cut without falling into ad hominem attacks. Remember, the fastest way to “lose” a debate is to attack the person who disagrees you with rather than focusing on showing the strengths of your own position. You can counter argue the reasons behind their point of view until the cows come home, but you may not insult the person who holds them.

I graded hundreds of argument papers over the years that I taught English 101. Many were well written, many were abysmal. I learned about issues I had no knowledge about and learned that for every naive and shallow 18-year-old student who didn’t have a clue, there were five more who were thoughtful, curious critical thinkers.

Never did I read a paper that personally attacked or insulted people who were on the other side of the argument. And for every argument I agreed with, I read another well-written argument that I didn’t agree with. But on those I was happy to write, in my ubiquitous purple ink, “Nice work!” all the while thinking, “Isn’t it nice to agree to disagree?”


*This essay first appeared on my book blog, Too Fond of Books, on July 12, 2012. Unfortunately, things are pretty much the same today in American political discourse as they were last year.

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