SOL March 10: The “F” Word

            I live next door to a K-8 school. As I was about to go out on this beautiful spring day, several 11 or 12 year olds streamed by. A boy in the lead yelled, “Fuck!” Three girls right behind him saw me standing in the doorway, old enough to be their grandmother, and their faces flashed laughter and shock at the same time. I wanted to say, “Do you think I’ve never heard or said that word myself?”

            It occurred to me, it’s one of those words that’s not intergenerationally shared. Parents aren’t supposed to say it front of their kids—so their kids won’t think it’s a word they can say any time. And kids don’t want to say it in front of their parents—for fear of punishment.

            But it’s an all-purpose word. We all say it and for a variety of reasons: anger, annoyance, surprise, distress, extreme emotion, and more. And it’s transcending language.

            I saw a Belgian short film yesterday, in Flemish. When the characters were upset or angry, they shouted the English “Fuck.” Just as that boy had as he ran past my door.

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I’m participating in the 18th annual Slice of Life Challenge over at Two Writing Teachers. This is day 1 of the 31-day challenge.  It’s not too late to make space for daily writing in a community that is encouraging, enthusiastic, and eager to read what you have to slice about.  Join in!

 

SOLSC: Falling, Again

            After losing then finding my phone yesterday (in yesterday’s Slice of Life story), I went to dinner at one of New Orleans’s most famous, and oldest (since 1840), restaurants, Antoine’s. The food was delicious (soft-shell crab with butter-almond sauce and a roasted corn side. Along with food a very good chardonnay. I mention the wine because it may have contributed to what happened later.

            After dinner I set out to walk back to my B&B. When I got to Bourbon Street, the crowds of people in the street and music coming from all the clubs and bars lured me to join them. I strolled along for a few blocks until the crowds thinned.

            As a car approached from behind, I thought it was time to get back on the sidewalk. Unfortunately, I picked a spot where a driveway curved into the sidewalk, and as I stepped up, my foot landed badly, and I fell forward. Not as badly as two years ago, but in protecting my head, I jammed my finger against the pavement.

            Passersby stopped to help. A self-styled street person said he’d seen many people fall where I had, then asked if that made me feel better. (It did.) After severa; minutes, I gathered myself and got over my shock. They helped me to my feet, and one couple walked me up to the main street, and I walked, gingerly, back to my local home.

            The B&B proprietor had a good first aid kit, and I went off to bed wondering how sore I’d be in the morning.

            By which time, my skinned knee felt fine, but my left pinky was very painful whenever I bent it. So off to an Urgent Care clinic to see whether there was any broken bone. Fortunately, there wasn’t. And the x-ray tech gave me this brace (left) to hold the pinky and its neighbor steady—the C component of R(est), I(ce), C(ompression), and E(levate). 

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I’m participating in the 11th annual Slice of Life Challenge over at Two Writing Teachers. This is day 2 of the 31-day challenge.  It’s not too late to make space for daily writing in a community that is encouraging, enthusiastic, and eager to read what you have to slice about.  Join in!