Typo Hunt Across America

Attend this TV appearance of the Grammar Girl, if you will. You don’t have to watch the whole thing; really, I’d just like to direct your attention to the introduction and initial few lines that the news anchors exchange with her. Note how glibly the anchors attribute the erosion of spelling to computers and texting and the like. I recall that the Today Show folks said much the same thing when introducing their TEAL piece. This is a curious line of reasoning, no less so because it seems reflexive. I think it taps into a fear of the new, of technological advancement, that has existed in many guises through the centuries.

In any case, a new book by David Crystal (reviewed here and here) looks at texting and finds that it is in fact not culpable for the decline of civilization.

A comic, for your consumption. Clearly I have fallen out of practice in the realm of drawing, as is evidenced by the misshapen limbs of my personages. Behold, a ripe target for the foul humours of your ridicule. Perhaps in future comics you will witness the gradual recapturing of my artistic skills, or at least an attainment of the grace to avoid portraying challenging poses, such as walking.

This is only tangentially related to our interest, but it serves as a reassuring reminder that American journalism is not faring any worse than its overseas counterparts. Plus there is someone in the article named Mr. Balls.

Also, if anyone has knowledge of a less awkward method of presenting a comic through WordPress, please let me know. A full-size presentation of the image within the blog proper does not seem to be an option.

A very merry Bastille Day to all of our readers. In the spirit of the day, you may find this to be relevant, the first League-inspired correction on a French sign. As far as I know, anyway. Our Continental friends face an additional burden that we in our language do not. Not only must their subjects and verbs agree, but their nouns and adjectives as well.

The League has also lately inspired folks in a very different quarter (quartier?). A professor wrote to tell me of the concept of a “grammar safari” now being incorporated into a course at Florida Gulf Coast University, and shared the links to two videos being used to promote the class. If any FGCU students lurk among this readership, don’t forget to sign up for CRN 81706 with the Registrar.

To round off the day’s distractions, a final recommendation. We could do worse than to follow the philosophy outlined by Michael Quinion in this recent episode of the Minnesota Public Radio Grammar Grater show, regarding the use of “preventative” versus “preventive.” There is an mp3 of the show, and a text summary for the aurally impatient. I think Quinion’s careful analysis speaks pretty closely to what we at TEAL believe about similar orthographic issues. Any strongly felt dogma should be traced back to its origins.

I believe I know now the direction that this modest site should take to keep its mission vibrant, and I will be working to steer our worn boots upon that shining path. Until then, fix a gimlet eye on the grammatical calumnies that taint your streets, and be wary.

Hello, cherished readers– what few of you are left, that is. The absences between entries on this blog have become unpardonably lengthy, so I’ll need to rethink my strategy for the continuation of TEAL. The whole document of the trip still exists, of course, and will do so for some time, but the modern hunger for fresh flesh on a continual basis dictates that new content must habitually appear in this space. I confess that I grow weary of many blogs for their tendency to squawk just to hear themselves squawk. I will attempt to avoid succumbing to the same phenomenon. Obviously I am not out there hunting down typos anymore. To do so repeatedly in one’s own neighborhood risks pariahdom, and I would discourage others from become repeat local vigilantes, as well.

However, I’d still enjoy seeing more reader submissions of typos both found and fixed. I will post them in this blog with due credit. The contest is over, of course, so no material prize awaits our typo hunters, but I hope that the quite immaterial reward of improving a small corner of the nation’s lingual landscape will appeal just as much. Let us build our corrective nation. I must mention, however, that you’ll have to have gotten permission for your correction. Otherwise the long arm of the law may swat us both. This is a slight change in policy brought about by necessity.

Last Monday I made an appearance on Boston’s Fox news station (technically in Dedham). I was going to mention on-air that I needed a job, but what came out instead was that I have no money, which, while also true, was less enlightening than my original intended statement. Otherwise the appearance went well. My mom has a copy, if you’re interested.

I report to you from a strangely cool afternoon at Jane’s parents’ house in southern Maine. Yesterday was so humid that today’s conditions caught me by surprise. My brain had been thrown into such torpor by the mugginess that I hadn’t even thought to bring a jacket just in case. We stopped by South Berwick’s Strawberry Festival, where fried dough was two dollars cheaper than it had been at the fair in Albany. The shortcake ran out before 2.

The fiction bug had been skritching at me pretty consistently during the TEAL trip, but I didn’t have much time to satisfy it, so wrapped up was I in the very non-fiction enterprise of chronicling our adventures. Since I returned, I’ve been trying to get back into my normal routines of story-writing. I do identify much more strongly as a fiction writer than anything else. (Despite my resume failing to reflect that, as yet.) I could probably make for a passable reporter, but my heart would never really be in it. I would grow weary with the prosaic nature of day-to-day events, as the real world lacks an invisible Author to impose order and meaning onto its happenings. The things that I described in the first paragraph, for example, were meaningful to me as I experienced them, but they would make for a poor narrative afterward. So I retreat to fiction for any subtler kind of truth.

Of course, the greater part of society does not share my predilections. We live in a nonfiction-centered reality, such as it is. So my preference for fiction-writing currently bears little relation to the problem of paying rent and other, graver expenses. Jane tried to help me inventory my interests. Maybe examining them would be helpful in identifying potential employment. The resultant list, though, could well reflect the interests of a given twelve-year-old: I like to write. I like to draw. I like to play video games. These interests had distressingly little overlap with the practicable skills that I possess: editing, proficiency in certain software, and so on. How many people soldier on, feeling this disconnect?

The fact that I even have the luxury to grouse about this speaks to the privileged sphere that I come from. There are so many folks who work just to survive and take care of their families, who see any kind of employment for the gift that it is. I know that I’ll end up getting some sort of work that will allow me to resume my comfortable routines, because I’m lucky enough to bound along on a buoyant middle-class network. I just want that skills/interests gulf to be bridged. I guess the core of me really is still twelve.

If you have a spare $999 to kick around, feel free to attend the annual DocTrain East conference this October in Burlington, Massachusetts. I will be giving a keynote speech on “A Brighter Shade of TEAL” in the morning for the October 31st session. …What’s that? Can’t afford to go? Ha, I wouldn’t be able to either if I didn’t have free passes.

Five weeks after the end of the trip, I’m still living in Bizarro Land, a terrain that occupies the space immediately in and around my head. On the surface, to the casual observer, it seems that things have returned to a normal state somewhat resembling the unremarkable life that I led before hitting the road in March. I am living in the same apartment in Somerville with the same elusive polyhistor for a roommate. I hang out with the same kids that I did before, I shop at the same overpriced grocery store. I did not intend for that to rhyme. I am still going to trivia night and playing several video games at once. But take an inquiring look closer at the portrait of this young man.

The first telling detail one may notice is that I do not shave as often as I once did. Most days I thoroughly resemble a man of the alleys. One may conclude that I have not been experiencing many formal or semi-formal occasions as of late, the kind that would require a closer-groomed appearance. This category of human affairs is not limited to but does include regular employment. The consequences of lacking such, i.e., no longer having money, can similarly observed on the top of my head, currently billowing out in an unsightly pouf. Today I got an e-mail from a national newsmagazine, and yet I do not seem to be able to afford a haircut. There is a strange disconnect here. Apparently fame and fortune do not always gambol hand-in-hand.

Observe, too, the blisters on my feet, perhaps caused by recently wearing dress shoes that no longer fit. This could be a hopeful indicator. Perhaps the razor will soon be taken up again on a regular basis, and clownish locks will be shorn at the barbershop on Mass. Ave. It is too early to tell. O cherished reader, there is much more I could tell you, about the wherefore behind finances abruptly becoming so dire, and opportunities gleaming as the proverbial mirage on the stark sands of the near future. But it’ll have to wait.

I was reading a Wired article this morning that struck me as interesting. Is our vaunted language destined to become the next Latin? This is another good reason not to chasten ESL speakers for their typos– maybe they are crafting their own interesting and someday equally valid brand of English.

I met some very cool people on Monday. They were engaged in the pursuit of orthographic righteousness, asking me many pointed questions about the finer aspects of typo-hunting. They were also, for the most part, around ten years old. Such was the great class that invited me to speak before them on matters of the League, in mine own town of Somerville.

I gave them a worksheet that included a sign encompassing the most common errors in America (per the data we collected on the trip), and challenged them to hunt all of the typos down. Everybody did very well in pointing out the bugaboos.  I also advised them on creating Typo Correction Kits and tips for typo hunters.

After our discussion, they gave me this fine toiletry kit embossed with the initials of my– our– organization.

They gave me hope for the future of spelling and grammar and whatnot.  After seeing their enthusiasm, I am convinced that we need to make up some sort of official TEAL educational material.

One more entry to share before I make the big announcement. Drew Makepeace is so vigorously dedicated to the cause that he sent in a second pair of photos for consideration in the contest. Here, the object of his ire:

According to Makepeace, his plan of attack consisted of “waiting until nightfall and sneaking up with some white stickers to cover the extraneous apostrophes. I returned during daylight to take the photo.” The overtones of subterfuge please me on my nethermost levels.

*****

The time has come, indicated by the five asterisks directly above, to announce the winner of the 2008 Typo Eradication Advancement League Typo-Hunting Contest. We have had several worthy entries. Erikka Adams displayed fortitude in standing up to errors in construction signs. Drew Makepeace demonstrated enthusiasm for our cherished art twice over. Katherine Imbrie brought the saving light of correctness to a church sign. Nick Freeland wielded punctuation with great valor. Tim Nance allayed the fears of passport holders nationwide by quelling the drugstore menace.

The top prize, however, must be awarded to Samantha Roman, of Denver, Colorado, for the sheer volume of typos she was able to eradicate in a single set of signs. The errors were truly loathsome in aggregate, and the world is palpably a better place without them.

Congratulations to Samantha Roman! I’ll be in touch to find out what style and color you would prefer from TEAL’s stable of precious garments.

We have a couple of late-breaking entries for the typo-correcting contest that I would like to share with you here. Remember that the deadline is tonight at midnight Eastern time, less than twelve hours away. The first comes from regular reader Tim Nance, of Murfreesboro, TN. He noticed the following sign in his neighborhood:

Naturally, his reaction was:

Nance shares his tale thus:

The CVS sign down the street has read “Passports taken here” for some time. I wondered if this were a warning about the agenda of local pickpockets, or whether CVS is merely suggesting that they accept passports as pieces of identification. In any case, I have a fondness for my passport and international travel, and I find the thought of someone taking it rather unpleasant.

As I drove up to CVS with my camera and correction kit ready and with my dad for backup, I noticed that there was a man who had just finished changing the OTHER side of the sign with its various ads. I stopped him before he reentered the store and asked for clarification as to what “passports taken” might mean. It was as I supposed: passport photos were taken here and not actual passports.

I explained the TEAL mission and asked him if he could change the sign to “Passport photos taken here.”

“Well, no, I’ve got other things to do,” he began.

“I’d be glad to do it for you!”

“Well, actually, no. It can’t be done. You see, we don’t have any more T’s. A lot of our letters are broken.”

“Well, maybe we could get some construction paper and tape a strip onto an I.”

It was beginning to rain, and as we both looked up at the sky and sign, we both were probably thinking about the durability of construction paper against the elements.

“Hey, what if we put ‘Passport pics taken here’?”

“Yeah, alright, I guess,” he said and handed me the big pole with the suction cup on top for pulling letters on and off. He already had an I in the spare letters in his hand, and he went to fetch me a P and a C.

The final product, though a little abbreviated, was satisfactory.

We thanked the guy and put money towards the sponsored CVS charity. He even wished us luck on our mission as we left.

This is a genuinely inspiring story, as I’m sure you’ll all agree. I appreciate Nance’s ingenuity in using “pics” as a work-around.

As for our other tale of rectifying swashbuckling, Nick Freeland, reporting from just south of Melbourne, Australia, joins the League with a double application of much-needed punctuation:

Nicely done, Mr. Freeland! This street is now a more hospitable place for kiddies and the rest of the citizenry.

The long silence since my last entry speaks to the fact that I’ve had less time for addressing the grammatical ills of the nation, due to my ongoing search for some way to plug the distressing leaks in my savings. Gainful employment still dances out of reach. Serious expenses also loom. Once this situation has been resolved, I may have a little more opportunity to expound on pressing matters in this space, but I will likely not limit myself to typos.

Tune in tomorrow for the League’s announcement of the contest winner! One lucky person will very soon have a free TEAL t-shirt speeding his or her way.

My roommate, Gene, brought an unfortunate story to my attention today, one that takes place in his beloved home state of Pennsylvania. It seems that one yearbook publishing company got a little too reliant on the crutch of spell-check, bringing about dismaying results.

The name substitutions were bad enough, but note the culpable guy’s reaction. “It happens all the time,” says he. This kind of dismissiveness may strike a familiar note to cherished readers of the Typo Hunt Across America. Everybody makes mistakes, he says, the subtext being So who gives a crap? Well, the poor suckers who were expecting a quality product to commemorate their high-school years, that’s who. I highly doubt that the “free stickers” the publishers are providing to cover over their errors will be sufficient redress. Why not do the decent thing and produce a new print run?

I thought I had seen enough of the country to blacken my heart with the protective burnt crust of cynicism, and yet stories like this still somehow lance through and surprise me with their senseless villainy. Maybe I am an eternal naïf, asking why over and over when I should already know the answer by now.

Anyway, don’t lean on that spell-check.  Not just because of the danger described herein, but also because it doesn’t catch homophones.  Ewe no eye em write, to!