LEND ME YOUR EAR: INCONSISTENCIES IN LANGUAGE REMAIN CONSISTENTLY CONSTANT

An expert on how to enjoy life to the fullest has given us yet another book on how to control our time. Someone should tell these "experts" that only God has the power to control time. I was reminded of this the first time I heard Smucker's TV commercial featuring a young man of five or six voicing concern about needing to follow in his father's footsteps.

"Have you seen the size of his shoes?" the little man asks, adding that he keeps watching his feet and they haven't grown an inch in two days!

Barefoot boy with feet that can't, feast you eyes on a writer who has been watching her desk calendar for two weeks, and this column hasn't grown an inch. The title keeps changing, but the issue, like Smucker's jams and jellies, stays the same.

So here we go again, still trying to purvey what we hope to convey: That the English language has always been fraught with inconsistencies and is obviously destined to remain so. Inconsistencies in spelling, pronunciations and meanings continue to flourish, and every English-speaking human being loves to target what he cherishes. But how can we tell whether words that are unfamiliar and sound wrong to us are unintentional slips, or made up on purpose?

Recently, on Washington Week, a guest speaker, alluding to aliens from another planet, declared "There's a lot more `muser' things out there than aliens." The "things" he was talking about where things that are poisoning our environment. Was "muser" merely a slip, or intended to convey amusement though no one feels amused by the idea, least of all the speaker. We prefer to believe he just couldn't resist making a pun.

Several weeks ago, Ann Landers quoted some examples of mispronunciations from a poem titled "In a verse, don't rhyme `horse' with `worse'." Similar inconsistencies include "break, freak," "beard, heard," and "laughter, daughter" ("neither of which is spelled like it oughter"). Synonyms that failed the test were also included: "You may call a woman a kitten, but not a cat: a chicken, but not a hen; a vision, but not a sight." Whatever her subject, Ann Landers is never dull.

Our favorite columnist, James Kilpatrick, who specializes in "izes" and "nyms" in his delightful "Writer's Art" columns, recently presented observations on coupling and combining words having the same elements. He points out that we say "clockwise" and "otherwise" but not "writerwise" or "waterwise." I'm certain about "righteous" but not "lefteous," or "wholesome" but not "halfsome." His productions are always infectious, and this time I contracted the disease myself.

Last month he surprised me with a copy of the eminent H.W. Fowler's new third edition of "Modern English Usage." Inside the fetching jacket was a Kilpatrick comment on the earlier editions: "For the serious writer, or even the fun-loving writer, Fowler's `Modern English Usage' is like an American Express card. We ought never to sit down at our typewriters without one."

A trip through this treasured tome convinces the reluctant traveler that it might be more profitable to stay home and spend our travel money on Fowler's books. Books cost less and last longer than a credit card, and we are not dishing out a slice of Globaloney.

My long-time Philadelphia friend Anita MacBryde has relayed a section from the Trico News that includes a poem titled "Our Queer Language," citing distinctions between our pronunciations of vowels. For an example, try the letter "o": doll, roll, love, gone, and tomb. Variations such as this could keep one busy writing and revising for weeks. Even the most fastidious will grant that everyone who communicates in English has vowel trouble.

Dave Barry maintains that one thing no language columnist can be accused of is not admitting a mistake. In my last column I admitted one before some alert reader could catch it. I had written "poeon" for "paean," but managed to avoid censure by calling the newspaper office just before press time.

To prevent further risk, let me explain that a "poeon" is a migrant worker or slave, a "paean" is a song or hymn of praise. I might have saved my face by claiming I'm a slave to language, but "paean" is more in tune with my spirit.

Trinity Lutheran School children of Cape Girardeau have just held a first-ever paper airplane contest. Students designed their planes and tossed them out of a third-floor window to send them "Soaring with the Spirit," which is what their project was called. Never mind that their teachers told them to go fly a kite. It was all in the spirit of fun -- and a reminder that God was still in charge.

Working with words is about as unpredictable as flying a kite. We toss a word or an idea out of the window of our mind, and it winds up in a place acceptable only to God. I sensed the time for ending this column had expired a whole page ago, and feared the devil was making me continue. Not so. This very instant, a voice more familiar to me is booming THE TIME IS NOW -- and I trust it's meant for me.

HAPPY EASTER

Aileen Lorberg is a language columnist for the Southeast Missourian.