Tag: mondegreens

  • Whatchamacallit…Part Two

    Do you know what this thing is called?

    Hint, it’s not called that thing above the 7.

    While it represents the word and, technically, it’s not called and or even the and symbol (although, you could call it that, and people would probably know exactly what you mean). This thing has an actual name. If you watch Wheel of Fortune (or if you’re one of those generally well-informed individuals) you may already know what that name is…

    Pat, I’ll take an ampersand…

    Technically, no one on Wheel of Fortune ever buys an ampersand…it’s a given.

    Now, for the second question: Do you know why it’s called ampersand?

    No, not because some printer by the name of Amper invented it (it’s not Amper’s and, although that explanation does sound plausible). And that brings us to the crux of this article.

    In fact, its name has a lot to do with how spoken words are heard and/or misheard…it’s a mondegreen.

    Say what?

    Yes, the word ampersand is a mondegreen! Here’s Merriam-Websteren’s entry for ampersand:

    noun am·per·sand \ ˈam-pər-ˌsand \ :  a character typically & standing for the word and

    Despite appearances, the history of ampersand owes nothing to amp or sand. The familiar character & derives from a symbol that was used in place of the Latin word et, which also means “and.” In the late Middle Ages, single letters used as words-words like I-were, when spelled, incorporated into a phrase that clarified that they were in fact individual words. For I the phrase was I per se, I, which in Latin means I by itself (is the word) I. In early lists of the alphabet, Z was followed by the symbol &, which was rendered & per se, and, meaning “& by itself (is the word) and.” Over the years, that phrase (which when spoken aloud was pronounced “and per se and”) was shortened by English speakers to ampersand. (https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/ampersand)

    When you think about the way modern-day school children recite the English alphabet, this makes perfect sense. Remember how you used to turn the innocent letters L-M-N-O-P into the inscrutable word elemenopea? In a similar way, over time, the slurred-together spoken phrase “and per se, and” became a word unto itself, ampersand. Aren’t words the best?

  • Misunderstandings Are the Spice of Life

    Misunderstandings Are the Spice of Life

    There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil—a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.”

    “And your defect is to hate everybody.”

    “And yours,” he replied with a smile, “is willfully to misunderstand them.”—Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

    The Tendency to Misunderstand

    I touched on this subject previously when I talked about mishearing and misunderstanding song lyrics (and arguably improving upon them) in a previous blog post. The resulting phrase based on the misunderstood words is called a mondegreen. Incidentally, the etymology behind this word is interesting and just goes to show one more great thing about being a writer: you get to make up words.

    It’s no secret that misunderstandings are at the heart of some of the best stories. If you don’t believe me, watch any random episode of Three’s Company.

    Holden’s Mistake

    However, classic TV shows aside, the story that I actually had in mind is J.D. Salinger’s classic tale of teenage angst. In The Catcher in the Rye, protagonist Holden Caulfield misunderstands and misquotes a line from “Comin’ Thro’ the Rye,” a poem by the Scottish poet Robert Burns. His misunderstanding (though not technically a mondegreen) provides the novel’s title, as well as one of its most poignant scenes, which occurs late in the story when Holden explains his life’s ambition to his little sister Phoebe in what could be termed his “I Am Song” moment.

     “I thought it was ‘If a body catch a body,’” I said. “Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody’s around–nobody big, I mean–except me. And I’m standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff–I mean if they’re running and they don’t look where they’re going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That’s all I’d do all day. I’d just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it’s crazy, but that’s the only thing I’d really like to be. I know it’s crazy.” (The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger)

    It’s “If a Body Meet a Body”

    When I first read The Catcher in the Rye, I recognized Holden’s mistake—that is to say, I recognized the line as a song Laura and Pa used to sing in the Little House books, specifically in By the Shores of Silver Lake. This was a particularly gratifying moment for me, because it meant that I’d gained something far greater than learning how to churn butter (in theory) and how to theoretically deal with a locust plague from all those years I’d spent reading as a kid. It was like my reading was paying off. I love it when knowledge comes full circle.

    A Few Points to Take Home
    1. Writers get to make up words (It could happen, I’m not saying it will, but the word mondegreen was coined by a writer in an essay. Now it’s in Webster’s).
    2. If you spend your entire childhood reading the Little House books, it may benefit you in unexpected ways.
    3. A Jane Austen quote is always pertinent.
    4. Don’t be frustrated by misunderstandings; learn to laugh at them. Unless you’ve built a pipe dream around one and it’s been mercilessly shattered and your very next stop will likely be a nice long stay undergoing psychoanalysis in an institution. In that case, it’s not at all funny, but rather…sad…
  • Japanese Peas Don’t Grow?

    The sky put on a bit of a show in the wee hours of this morning, prompting me to think of the Jimi Hendrix line, “Excuse me while I kiss the sky,” which then made me want to say, “Excuse me while I kiss this guy,” well, for reasons that should be obvious. (If not they are not, I refer you to this article.)

    Which brings me to the actual point of this blog post:

    Mondegreens, Malapropisms, and Mixed Metaphors

    I come from a short line (as far as I know, it only spans two generations) of women who mix metaphors, misquote idioms and butcher lyrics. It’s not a proud legacy, but it is what it is. The defective gene can be traced to my mother who might say something like, “You can beat a dead gift horse, but you can’t make him drink.” She passed this trait on to my sister who will say with an air of proud surprise, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I got that one right, didn’t I?!” when (on occasion) she gets an idiom correct.

    They’re funny, my mom and my sister, and their mixed-up expressions, but I don’t laugh too loudly.

    He Who Laughs Last Laughs Best

    My form of the malady manifests itself specifically in my tendency to invent song lyrics. When I was a little girl I used to love a song that was apparently about a garden that just couldn’t or wouldn’t grow Japanese peas. Ooh, ooh, ooh. Perhaps you’ve heard it. I think the band is called Chicago.

    What are Japanese peas? I have no idea. A lesser-known variety similar to snow peas or sugar snap peas? Why don’t they grow? Perhaps not enough water or sunlight, I don’t know. I didn’t question it, I just sang along. Later—to my everlasting disappointment—I found out the real lyrics were, “Ooh ooh ooh, no baby please don’t go.”

    My version is less needy and not quite so pathetic.

    PS. Speaking of mistaken lyrics and total eclipses…I did a web search for misunderstood lyrics for Total Eclipse of the Heart and found this: “Totally, clips of the heart.” Submitted, I’m guessing, by a valley girl.

    Here’s an old commercial that features two guys singing loud, singing proud, but above all, singing words that only make sense to the ones singing!

    [youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=khVRAO8N-4E?rel=0&w=420&h=315]