From ‘OMG, my sons R gr8 writers’ to the well-written word
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This column contains gratuitous bragging about my offspring. If you have a weak stomach or are offended by maternal pride, you may want to give this column a miss.
I blinked, rubbed my eyes and enlarged the font size, but I still struggled to make sense of the text I recently received.
“Not 2nite but 2moro GR8. TTYL.”
I wanted to reply, “Who are you and what have you done to the written word!?” but I restrained myself.
Chat acronyms and text abbreviations litter our language like so much confetti. I recently found myself actually saying OMG. Not “oh my gosh,” but just the letters O. M. G.
It was like a Kardashian had possessed me. It shook me.
But when I despair over the state of the written word, it cheers me to think of my sons. All is not lost, because all four of them can write. They use real words and complete sentences, too.
From songs, to poetry, to A-plus essays, these guys have the ability to communicate in a way that delights this writer mom.
Our firstborn, Ethan, has always been a writer. At age 3, he carved his version of his name (EOTH) on my car with a sharp rock. Thankfully, he soon moved on to crayons and paper.
While still in elementary school he penned several lengthy “Star Wars” prequels and sequels. By middle school he was writing his own sci-fi adventures. In high school he joined the now defunct Spokesman Review youth-written section, “The Vox,” where he wrote columns and features.
Though Ethan has declined to pursue a career in journalism, he’s constantly writing and next month will launch a collaborative blog. He describes it thusly, “Nothing is off limits for this dangerous group of writers. We seek to explore the Twilight Zone of the mind.” His brother Alex doesn’t share his enthusiasm for putting words on paper. In fact, Alex claimed prisoners at Guantanamo were regularly forced to write 1,000-word essays, which he was positive violated the Geneva Convention. As an active kid, who was much happier on the ballfield than in the classroom, I’m sure writing assignments did feel like torture to him.
Even so, his creativity with the written word shone, usually when he was explaining actions that led to lunch table cleaning duty or after school detention. In one memorable example, he eloquently explained why he should not be written up for “intentionally farting on a classmate.”
He wrote, “Passing gas is a naturally bodily function and cannot always be confined or contained. In fact, I believe people have died from withholding flatulence, and I’m certain that the school would not want my death on their conscious.”
He still had to clean the lunch tables for a week.
The few letters we’ve received from him since he moved to Texas in April have been entertaining. Knowing I’m concerned that he’s eating healthy food, he wrote about what happened when they scored a good deal on chicken. “We ate baked chicken, fried chicken, old chicken, cold chicken, chicken soup, chicken and dumplings, chicken patties and chicken sandwiches. I had no idea you could make so many meals from chicken – and for every meal of the day!”
No. 3 son, Zachary, didn’t enjoy writing assignments in school, either. He prefers his words to go with music. To date he’s written approximately 50 songs. He’s released one CD with a second due out this spring.
In spite of his lackadaisical spelling skills, he earned A’s in English 101 and English 102 at Spokane Falls Community College.
One memorable paper was titled, “The French Connection.” It was an ode to French toast and began like this, “The mere sight of French toast brings to mind the biggest most comfortable king size bed, only tastier and covered with whip cream and syrup. It reminds me of a big fluffy drawbridge hovering over a moat of maple syrup so sweet and sticky that the invading knights dive in willingly….”
If he decides not to pursue music, I’m sure he could have a career as a food writer.
And then there’s Sam. Words come to him effortlessly and his passion is filmmaking. He’s posted several short videos to YouTube and is currently writing his first full-length feature film. Not bad for 15.
While cleaning out his desk drawers recently, he unearthed a persuasive essay he wrote in second grade. The topic? “Why I want a pet monkey.”
Sam wrote, “I deserve a pet monkey because I will have a friend. I promise to train it well and monkeys are funny. I get lonely real easy so I want a pet monkey to make me have company when I’m lonely. I will train the monkey, you can trust me to. Most monkeys are mean, but I will train it properly. I don’t get very many laughs and most records say that monkeys are born comedians….”
His essay earned a B+, but he still doesn’t have a pet monkey.
In today’s world of acronyms and shorthand, I’m encouraged my sons can form sentences devoid of L8R’s and LOL’s.
If real words and complete sentences ever come back into fashion, these guys will be just fine.