Fresh Fruit Salad

 

Fresh Fruit Salad

 Columnist Ellen Goodman was drawn to the menu item at an airport restaurant: “Fresh fruit salad.” But when it arrived, she immediately realized that it was straight out of a can. She asked the waitress “what precisely had happened on the way from the menu to the plate.” The waitress replied, “That’s just what we call it.”

Goodman, writing in the Washington Post nearly 40 years ago, lamented how people can play fast and loose with words when it suits them. We’re not talking about euphemisms, where we try to soften the awkwardness of concepts like death (“He passed on…”) or drunkenness (“She’s had one too many”).

No, the phenomenon Goodman encountered involves brazen dishonesty or self-delusion. It’s like me saying that our new pet cocker spaniel is a cat. I always wanted a cat and only grudgingly agreed to have a dog in the house. But I tell people it’s a cat, because “that’s just what I call it.”

Yes, we recognize that all languages are dynamic, and English words are subject to change. Think how the word “gay” has dramatically changed in the past half century. Or think of teenage slang, where today’s connotations could be the opposite from a week ago. (If a teen told me that something was “wicked” I’d need more context to know if that was good or bad.) But for me to say that “black” is “white” or that “night” is “day” will soon bring our discourse to a confused end.

Samuel Becket said that “Words are all we have.” They matter.

We might contend that our words are ours to use as we please. Well, not if I want to avoid confusing our vet when we take in our dog/cat, or not if Ellen Goodman wants her fruit salad fresh.

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