MISS CHEEVY-USS

Miss Cheevy-Uss and I had lunch together recently, and of course the topic of conversation turned to her unusual name.  I asked her if she caught any slack for having a hyphenated last name.  She replied that, no, most people were quite understanding.   They were generally fine, she told me, when she explained that her parents do not have the same last name and that she wanted people to know that she was the daughter of both John Cheevy and Caroline Uss.

I was surprised when she told me that some people did give her some trouble when it came to the pronunciation of her surname.  Some of them tried to tell her that the proper pronunciation was Miss Chuv-Uss, which she knew to be wrong.  I agreed completely.  The nerve of some people. 

Then Miss C-U said something which truly shocked me.  She told me that it is impossible for a word to be mispronounced.

I, knowing better, tried to set her straight.  I pointed out that cream rhymes with dream and that anyone trying to pronounce it rabbit would be pronouncing it wrongly.

She admitted that I was right, but she told me that she still meant it.  She told me that mispronunciations do not exist.  Of course I was as flabbergasted as when she said it the first time, so I begged her to explain.

Miss C-U told me about the word library.  She told me that when some people say it, they leave out the sound of the first r that you see when the word is written down.  I told her that, of course, these people were saying it the wrong way.

“But lots of people say it that way,” she told me.

“Yes,” I said.  “They are all wrong.”

“But they all mean the same thing that you mean when you say it with the first r in it.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” I told her.

“But you know what they mean, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” I said, and I was getting annoyed.

“So they must be saying the same word.  It still means the same thing.  You admitted yourself that lots of people say it.  So if lots of people say it, and we all know what they mean by it, doesn’t that mean that lye-berry is just a different way to pronounce the word lye-bray-ree?”

I pointed out that lye berries would actually be a type of fruit.  But she shrugged that off.  I pointed out that people that put the ee sound at the end of my name are pronouncing it incorrectly.  But she told me that names are a different matter.  With a name, the pronunciation is important because it’s part of what makes the name mean me.

I thought she was dodging the issue, but I let it slide.

Miss C-U told me that even if a word used to be pronounced in only one way, it could later change so that there was an option to be had.  Even if there used to be only one way to say library, it would not be impossible for there to be two ways now, would it?

“Yes it would,” I said.  But I was being contrary, and I knew that she might be right.

“Think about the word knight.  The kind in shining armor.”

“The one with the silent k.”

“That’s just it!” she told me.  “The k wasn’t always silent!  Once upon a time, people used to say kah-nig-it.  But they meant the same thing.”

I didn’t believe her, so we asked a third party for an opinion.  But it turns out that the third party was biased, because it was the dictionary.  It sided with Miss C-U.

I was determined to salvage my pride and prove my intelligence.  I said that if I began to pronounce the word potato the same way that I pronounce the word capitalism, that would not create two ways to pronounce the word potato.

She looked at me like I was crazy.  But she agreed that I was right.  She explained that what mattered was that enough people agreed that capitalism was another way to say potato.  If half of all the people who speak English began to say capitalism but meant the same thing as potato, then that would be an acceptable pronunciation, because many people would understand the meaning, and even if some people thought that capitalism was the wrong pronunciation, they would still know what the people who said it really meant.

This is a very important point, she explained.  Some people have the idea that certain ways of talking are all wrong.  What they really mean, Miss C-U told me, is that they are wrong by the books.  If they are trying to talk the way the books tell them to talk, then of course they are wrong.  But the book way is not the only way to talk.  It might be the way to talk if you want to impress someone who agrees with the books, but it is possible to talk a different way that the books say is the wrong way.  And if you are with a group of people who talk in a way that the books would disapprove of, then it might be right to talk to them the wrong way.

“Hold on, Miss Cheevy-Uss.  You’ve lost me somewhere among the books,” I told her.  “How can something that is wrong be right?”

“In the same way that something right can be wrong,” she said.

I felt quite disillusioned.  I had trusted the books, and they had led me astray.  They claimed to be right, but they were wrong.  Up had become down.

“But they are right.  They are right about the way to talk when you talk to the people who like the books.  You just have to remember that some people don’t know about the books, and some people know but just don’t like them.”  She acted as though it was obvious.  But it was not.

I was thoroughly perplexed.  I discovered suddenly that I was late for something much less complicated.  I excused myself quickly.

“Goodbye, Miss Chuv-Uss,” I said.

“That’s Miss Cheevy-Uss to you,” she replied.

Please note that Miss Cheevy-Uss is a figment of my imagination.  There is no such person, but I’d be grateful if you didn’t tell her that I said so.