I made a vow to stop cussing when I was 23 years old—not sure why. I hadn’t become a christian at that point—didn’t carry any conscious guilt feelings—certainly had no peer pressure—and I was pretty good at it. I suppose it seemed unnecessary to me. I was reading more at that time and becoming more engaged with words (raise your had if you ever had a new-word-of-the-day tear off calendar). We used swear words so generally—could fit them into almost any sentence. I kept the vow pretty well—it wasn’t that hard. (Yes, I’m sure I’ve cussed since I was 23, but very rarely—don’t be a Pharisee!)
When I wrote the rough draft of my first novel, The Whole Nine Yards, my protagonist Storm Russell had a very foul mouth. I thought that was the way teenagers, especially boys trying to be cool, talked. I wanted realism. My sister, a junior high librarian, advised me to cut it down. When my publisher at Dell said they wanted to buy it, he told me to cut it out almost entirely. His reasoning: “Why would you want to keep your book out of high school libraries?” Here’s the thing: when I made the cuts, it didn’t affect Storm’s personality at all—it just made him a little more likeable. (And I wanted you to like him—he was me, for goodness’ sake!)
That same sister who advised me to cut, along with her husband, subscribed to the theory that words were words—neutral—and that whatever value you attached to them was due to your own neuroses—hang-ups. So on a visit, he would hold up my six-month-old daughter and say, “Hello, you little fucker, how you doing today?” I would swallow my tongue as I felt my wife’s psychic energy meter go bonkers.
My wife, on the other hand, only cusses when she is angry. Extremely. It is her signal. I could probably count on one hand the times she has cussed at me—and it wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn she has never cussed at anyone else. It wasn’t fun.
So you can see where I am going with this. This is my thesis: (I’m not supposed to say that, am I?) Profanity almost always casts a negative vibe on the room. Subtle, miniscule, unnoticed—but negative. Like my publisher said: Better left out.
Don’t misunderstand: I don’t think there is anything more wrong with profanity than potty humor than puking than farting. Not evil—I guess I can be accused of my own prejudice here—just unappealing.
I played golf with one of my friends the other day—a really good guy. This man brings a box of dog biscuits to the course with him every time he plays (our course is lined by backyards). The dogs wait for him with joy. Then he hits a terrible shot on #13 and unleashes a stream of invective aimed particularly at the Father and the Son. It was so discordant—shook me up a little.
So if you are reading this and it is ringing any bells, ask yourself why you cuss. I will issue a challenge: take the vow for one day (a twenty-four hour period). Was there any appreciable difference in the tone of your day? Was it hard to do? I’d love to know.
I hate to say this, but a study was done (read about it in TIME) that showed no matter what your language or culture, if you got hurt and used a “cuss” word — as your defined in your language as being so — images of the brain showed you felt better compared to saying something like “gosh darn”. In everyday conversation it is crude and unsettling to curse; however, if you get hurt, apparently a few expletives will do you some good.
Yeah, I’ve learned a lot from doing this post. I guess my objection is to casual habitual profanity.
It is called maturity and understanding the people and setting you are around. I try to say words like “Christmas tree” in frustration like my father but I have to admit, it is just fun and comforting dropping the f‑bomb during Spurs games around close friends who also enjoy cursing. I also think smart extremely intelligent people do curse and say the f‑bomb at perfect times. Just saying…
Yeah, I get it. Like I said, I don’t see it as evil…maybe just uncalled for. I’ve gotten a lot of interesting feedback on this one.
Also consider: Your approach is what I very much needed as a kid. It sparked an appreciation for creativity that has endured since I was your student whereas before you I had an avid dislike of the physical act of writing. In that, you succeeded more so than you know. Kids like me need more of that, and you are the dose of water in the drought of quite a few childhoods like mine.
But your approach isn’t the only thing that got me where I am today. I needed the hard approach too, to wake me up to the fact that I could not remain a kid forever. That I needed to grow up and be responsible. I often tell people not to thank me for my service. I tell them the Army did far more for me than I ever did for it, and it’s true. I was too young and stupid to have been much good. I was lucky in that my teachers there Also knew what to do with me, and where the harder approach was needed, not just for me but for those I’d serve with.
But you’re part of the reason that even today, I know how to say please and thank you in a lot of different languages. I walk softly partially because of watching how you deal with people. I read what you write even today because I’m STILL affected by and admire your approach to life in both where it resembles and contrasts with my own. I admire the strength you have to do what I don’t because of choice and the conviction of living that choice. You show me How to work with the soft approach better. And for that I thank you.
You bring up a topic with me that I’ve given MUCH thought on. Perhaps too much. I know how to be polite in multiple languages so that when I travel I’m not looked down upon for my nationality or lack of language skills. I do so because I know the value of communicating politeness to people you’ve just met. It’s very much an Irish thing, but I was learning to do it before I knew that it IS an Irish thing.
That said, I am also VERY gifted at the eloquent abuse of the English language, both spoken and written. I joke that I don’t swear like a sailor, I teach them how. People who’ve seen me spout off often double take at the things coming out of my mouth.
Both have their uses, both have their rolls. One is to convey welcome and gratitude. The other sets, watches, and vigorously maintains personal boundaries. It sets the stern warning that to proceed is dangerous, perhaps mortally so. Do so Knowing you were warned otherwise. That is what I use that language for, English or otherwise.
When I was an account manager, I would tell my new employees something a wise old sergeant taught me: “If I’m unhappy with you, pray that I’m yelling and screaming. If I am, it’s because I’m trying to wake you up and get your attention. It’s not because I’m angry with you, per say. It’s because I want you alert to what you’re doing wrong, and to get you moving on the right track. When I’m done, I’m done. I will have forgotten the entire thing and not dwell on it. I’ll never bring it up again.”
“But if you walk in my office and I’m quiet, I speak softly, and respectfully, it’s because I always do so at a funeral, and you just don’t know you’re dead yet.”
The right words are Very motivational. I know you wouldn’t use them as a coach. You’re what I’d call a “Soft Master.” It’s a martial arts thing, and not something I’d think any less of you for. Quite to the contrary. You had no need of it for tennis. Soft masters work by encouragement, and it’s key for their success.
That said, combat’s a… slightly different thing. I consider careers and livelyhoods in the same category. So yes, I will swear with ear blistering eloquence when I think I need to get someone moving in a better direction. Also, I growl so professionally so that I don’t have to resort to biting. Biting is worse. I don’t choose to limit myself to a soft approach when I need a hard one. And by the same coin, I don’t enjoy using a hard approach when a soft one will do. And I’d rather use a less hard approach than, say, chucking someone out of an airplane to teach them skydiving.
Scott — I completely agree with you. I realize now what I was addressing was thoughtless and habitual profanity. Used as a tool, it can be extremely effective in communication, and that is a good thing. I can see you’ve figured it out. Thanks for the insight!
Miss you. Miss our lunchtime ponderings, especially when you were wrong : ) Tell Karen I said hi!