Do you know what I mean when I say, ‘I have to go to the library?’
“I have to go to the Library,” she said, and hung up abruptly, ending our hour-long conversation. I glanced at the clock, surprised. It was nearly ten p.m. What library was possibly still open?
It took me about an hour to realize (insert surprise emoji) that my friend meant she had to make a trip to the Little Girls Room — you know, the bathroom.
We hardly need The McGraw Hill Dictionary of Slang to tell us that we often fall back on slang and euphemisms when plain English is awkward and we don’t know exactly what to say, but here goes anyway: “Library, slang. A toilet, especially in one’s house. A humorous reference to the tendency of people to read while sitting down on the toilet” the dictionary explains patiently.
Many people tell me that they keep my books in their library because they’re so nice to read there where it’s warm. Thank you, perhaps.
We seem to have a lot of trouble saying what we mean. Growing up in Montana, where there were no roads, cars, or traffic lights, that homely location was an outhouse. No indoor plumbing in Warland. The phrase was “visiting Mrs. Jones.” Or “shopping at Monkey Wards” since the Montgomery Ward catalogs would be out there.
Euphemisms weren’t used exclusively for such personal trips. After my family moved to the Big City (Spokane), where there were traffic lights, my mother expanded the shorthand and would say as we waited at each red light, “Now, do the Great American Gesture.” This meant stand up straight and pull the tummy in. I didn’t know then or now why that was the Great American Gesture, but I never doubted it was.
Or someone might sidle up to you in the hallway at school and say “It’s snowing down south” which meant your slip was showing, and we all always wore a slip — well, not the boys. Although there was a winter protest where the boys expressed solidarity with girls wanting to wear slacks to school in cold weather. They all came to school in skirts. And were promptly sent home to dress appropriately — and never mind the language.
My generation, born between 1925 and 1945 has been called The Silent Generation because we didn’t protest, but also The Lucky Few because for us the American Dream came true.
For members, of Generations X, Y, and Z the future seems murky and creating their own language is a way of keeping in touch. While I still struggle with “trips to the library,” the comfortable shorthand from the old days has been replaced by laughing shouts of TMI (Too Much Information).
Even grocery lists seem to get an LOL (laughing out loud) or LMFAO (you don’t want to know) and everything is accompanied by a laughing emoji or a sad emoji or one who seems to need a large bottle of Tums. Even notes about a visit to the doctor will have at least two “HAHA” notations.
I signed on to Facebook when it was being updated by dinosaurs to keep up with what with my kids and grandkids were up to. Now the grandkids have gone to Tik Tok and my kids are using words on Facebook and Twitter they never used at home. Some I don’t understand, and the ones I do understand don’t bear talking about.
Advancing technology has always been a challenge and a blessing. James Longmire wrote that he was glad he took the time to embrace new technology as he started by wagon train from his home in Shawnee, Indiana, with his wife and four children on March 6, 1853, heading for the unknown territory of the great Northwest.
Their great luxury and technological breakthrough was a camping oven, for which they paid twelve dollars, Longmire reported. This wise purchase of cooking equipment weighed only twenty-five pounds and allowed the family to have warm biscuits for breakfast. I’m thinking if our laptops baked warm biscuits we’d be able to cope a lot more successfully.
I got into a self-service elevator in Steilacoom yesterday. It’s got to be the only one in town. I courteously asked a latecomer what floor she’d like. She was smartly dressed and her shoes were shined. She reached over and punched the button.
“I am in control of my own fate,” she announced.
“You don’t have any children, do you?” I asked.
Where to find Dorothy in March
9 a.m. March 7 and March 21: Zoom Coffee Chat and Change the World. Fun, laughter, and resources. Registration link at Dorothy@itsnevertoolate.com
Swimming upstream radio show: www.https://SwimmingUpstreamRadioShow.com or anywhere you listen to podcasts.
Reach Dorothy: www.itsnevertoolate.com, PO Box 881, DuPont WA 98304, 800-548-9264.
Email: Dorothy@itsnevertoolate.com
This story was originally published March 7, 2022 at 5:30 AM.