When Liz and Donna Have Lunch
By Donna McCrohan Rosenthal, East Sierra Branch
Back when you could go to restaurants, Liz and I would get together often for lunch or dinner. Conversation included family, politics, and fairly predictable subject matter in general. But we’d invariably drift to two less conventional themes. Because we’ve both had associations with companies that casually threw away important documents, records, and books, we frequently railed to each other about their refusal to hang onto their necessary history.
Beyond that, because we both seem to have grown up with red pencils in our hands, we decry the misuse of language.
I routinely belabor “decimate” when applied to suggest “devastate” or “wipe out.” Heretofore, it always meant “reduce by 10%.” I believe it still should. Look in any old dictionary. But when I bring it up, Liz gently reminds me, “Language evolves. You’ve lost this battle.”
For the record, while I understand about “spam” and “virtual” projecting entirely different images than they did 50 years ago, I don’t want to give up on “decimate” quite yet.
I also grind my teeth over “incredible” hijacked to compliment, for instance, a performance or a legal defense. “That incredible performance left me breathless!” Or, “What an incredible defense!” To me, this says the actor and lawyer failed because their presentations lacked credibility. But to these observations, the ever-patient Liz notes, “Language evolves.”
I may have to concede defeat in this last department.
Yet Liz and I absolutely agree on “ordnance.” “Ordnance” = military supplies. “So tell me, please,” she’ll entreat, “how do people in this city, with its China Lake ties, and some of them with jobs in ordnance, write that they work in ordinance?” “Ordinance” = that which is decreed or ordained, or an authoritative decree or directive.
Not the same at all.
You may shake your head as you read this rant thinking that we have tediously dull visits. But quite the contrary, we gossip about grammar and love it. We’ve probably gone as far as to vent about semicolons. I miss our lunches and dinners. I can’t keep stockpiling all these new grievances while waiting for us to reconvene.
Yesterday on the TV news, a report showed a town completely destroyed by a tornado, with not as much as a tree left standing. “The swirling mass decimated 90% of the community,’ the weatherman declared.
I don’t even know where to start that math.
I wish the pandemic would hurry up and finish. Never mind whatever the restaurant puts on our plates. Liz and I will have more pressing fare to chew on and digest.