Verbal Shortcuts That Work

As is often the case with people who've lived together for a long time, we've developed our own system of effective verbal shortcuts. These words and phrases effectively convey far more meaning than their staid and steady "plain English" counterparts--and they work.

I'll share a few examples, sometimes writing the syllables in all capitals to indicate pronunciation.

Timothy Parks, then about seven, introduced us to a flexible workhorse when describing his dad's new pistol. "My dad has a new Glock. It's an ALL-some gun." So now instead of the tedious, overworked superlative "awesome," our vocabulary packs real firepower--especially when the syllables are forcefully and distinctly enunciated.

As our son read aloud to us one evening, he encountered a word he couldn't immediately pronounce: subdued. Stumbling a bit, he mumbled "SUB-dude." I reacted quickly. "Whoa! What do you think that word means?" Having a picture of a "dude" in his mind, he suggested a definition completely consistent with his pronunciation. "Well, I guess a SUB-dude is less than a dude."

Though I confess to not knowing exactly what a SUB-dude might be, I think I know one when I see one. Thus this single colorful word vanquishes a bevy of drab substitutes. As in, "Look at those SUB-dudes over there."

A college friend inadvertently originated this next word while providing an animated description of someone who had incurred his disdain. "He's nothing but a ZORE-hog!" Though seemingly a backhanded reference to our familiar razorback hog mascot, the new word bristled with possibilities. We engage it often, never exhausting its potential. "How do you feel today?" "Terrible. Like a ZORE-hog." What more need be said?

At about age four, Caleb Stanton originated a saying we invoke almost daily. When one of us is headed to the fitness center, we use Caleb's terminology. "I'm off to the PIT-ness now." A true language economist looks for one good word to replace two. PIT-ness passes the test.

In his book All Creatures Great and Small, James Herriot introduced us to descriptive local jargon. Of particular interest is "summit," the way Yorkshire Dales folk pronounced "something." But we try to guard against letting "summit" slip into outside conversations. Local sophisticates would surely turn a fishy eye on anyone saying, "Now lemee tell you summit." Or, "Ainchoo summit!"

Though we've let it fall into disuse, Charles Dickens (in Great Expectations) provided a flexible verbal jack-of-all-trades. Derived from the name of the main character, "pip" quickly slipped into our young son's conversations. "Do you want to go to town?" "Pip." Or, "Would you like to stop for some ice cream?" "Pip! Pip! Pip!" Now ain't that summit?

Though surely none of these will worm their way into mainstream speech, they (and many of their companions) live full lives in private.

Like much of life, effective communication may depend on finding shortcuts that work.

Copyright 2004 James McAlister

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