Hazards of the Hallmark card

Valentine's Day is fast-approaching and the question I continue to wrestle with is this: Do I dare buy a Hallmark card?

It can be risky. You see, card manufacturers have a little dirty secret most men are not aware of: They recycle their cards, year after year after year.

This reckless act of marketing laziness could lead to a rather embarrassing event, where the same card is presented twice – to the same person. 

Not only that, but their costs are abhorrent! A few years ago, my wife and I committed to not buying birthday cards anymore for that very reason. I mean, $8 for a card?! Does one really need those laced edges and sparkles? It seems so frivolous. 

But we couldn't hold off. For some reason we started buying them again. Maybe we realized it was the words. More specifically, the lack of words I could muster to write on a blank card. Hallmark does a pretty darn good job of expressing how I feel, or how I should feel.    

I used to write poetry, but that was when I was young, aloof and depressed. I honestly don't have the will to write that fluff anymore (I save it for my blogs). And I find it extremely difficult to sign a card without sounding agonizingly untrue to myself.  

But Hallmark... they know what they're doing. They can create the perfect card for you. Take your pick, there are usually at least 20 to choose from. 

Usually there's a card that calls out to me. I read the first few lines and I know – it's the one. Sometimes without even finishing, I'll run to the till to make my purchase. Discretely, I place the card face down so only the barcode is showing, concealing my romantic aspirations. 

But inside there are winsome words that will make my wife's heart melt like... like the cheese on her morning toast...  

"For my loving wife, today, tomorrow and always." 

No better way to start a card.

"Remembering the way we were, when love first linked our hearts as one, Reminds me how much joy I felt when life with you had just begun..." 

All completely true and accurate, but sounds better than, "Remember when we couldn't keep our hands off each other?" 

"Thinking of the way we are, the trust we have, the warmth we feel, Reminds me what a gift it is to share with you a love so real..." 

Nailed it again. Notice the subtle repetition, the parallel structure to emphasize that I am continually reminded of the gift that is our shared love. So important for men to remember on their own.

"Dreaming of the way we'll be forever friends and partners, too, Reminds me time can never change my deep and lasting love for you. Happy Anniversary." 

Note the subtle undertones of marital commitment, of sensible sober love. Friends and partners, not even lovers, yet we can still dream of lasting love. We can dream, can't we? It's magical. 

I knew from the start that this was the one. The one that I present to my wife on our fifteenth wedding anniversary. The one that would make her heart melt like... like ice-cream after a ten-second blast of the microwave (she prefers it that way). 

And for a moment it did. 

Until she saw the same card on top of her dresser, signed by me, one year ago to the day.

Happy Anniversary, from Hallmark. 

Febuary is the new February

In a memorable Seinfeld episode, the portrayed owner of the New York Yankees, George Steinbrenner, asks a perennial question: "Is it Feb-ru-ary or Feb-u-ary? 'Cause I prefer uary. And what's with this ru?"  

What is with this ru? Not only does February have the dubious distinction of adding an extra day every four years, it's impossible to say without wondering if you've said it correctly.  

Really, we shouldn't. Have you ever had qualms about saying Wednesday? What's with the dnes? Or how about knife? We wouldn't dare pronounce the "k", lest we get our knickers in a knot (that's an English joke). 

Have you ever pronounced the "e" in bite? Just because they used to, doesn't mean you have to today. Englishmen and women used to pronounce bite in two syllables: bi-te. Over time, they realized the "e" was too much work.

As for other unused letters, the "k" in knife has never been pronounced, at least not by the English. In German, from where the word originates, the kn sound rolls off the tongue like sauerkraut and wienerschnitzel. We don't like the way it feels in our mouth, so some English scribe made a compromise – to only spell knife with a "k".

Because English isn’t confusing enough. Just ask my Ukrainian wife, who for years had to learn by trial and error. 

I was of little help when asked to explain the vagaries of our vocabulary. Why not deers when there are ducks? Why geese but not gooses? Why moose and not meese?  

And that's just wildlife. Never mind the thousands of other words that require memorization. It can drive an ESL student nuts. 

The rules are inconsistent and irrational, yet stringently enforced by English speakers. If we catch you muffing a word, we will hold you to account. We might even make you say it over and over again, until you're nearly shouting it. (This is unintentional, of course.) 

As my nephew from Ukraine will attest, there is no curbing the arrogance of an English tutor – or at least one like me. He endured a year of taunts and cringes as he wrestled with the unwieldy words of my mother tongue. In one lesson, I over-analyzed his pronunciation of good until he could no longer say it at all. To this day, he still dreads responding to "How are you?" 

Yes, it’s cruel and unfair. As a native English speaker, I am all-knowing because what I speak is always right. It's right because it sounds right. I don't need to understand the basics of grammar to understand what I'm saying is correct – it just is. 

Unless of course it isn't – or is, but sounds like it isn't. Check out this grammatically correct sentence: "All the faith he had had had had no effect on his life." As explained on grammarly.com, this statement relies on a double use of the past perfect. Of course it does! (Unlike most ESL students, I have no idea what the past perfect is.) 

I do know, however, that it's not tal-k, it's tawk. It's not etcetera, it's ex-cetera. It's not hamster, it's hampster. No wait...  

One thing is for certain – words will continue to change and evolve. Accelerated by the advent of texts and Twitter, some suggest that our language is regressing at an alarming rate. It's quite possible that English will degenerate into a series of acronyms and emojis, similar to my iPhone reading a text from my 10-year-old daughter: 

"How’s it going bro? Hi5 bro. Whawhawhawhawhat? Flushed face. Fair skinned woman face-palming. Winking face with tongue." 

LOL.