LEND ME YOUR EAR: LOVERS OF LANGUAGE STILL PARALLEL TENSES

Of all the words common to the English language, "grammar" may be the most misunderstood. Readers who request more emphasis on grammar are probably thinking of the basics, once taught and learned in primary school.

Beloved faithfuls, what does it profit a man to have tools if directions for handling are missing? Most qualified literates can recite the principal parts of verbs, yet multitudes of "educated" adults fail usage.

On a recent TV special, we watched a delegation of Associated Pressmen moving about the bronze statue of Thomas Jefferson fronting the Missouri Statehouse in Jefferson City. They'd come to view the remarkable face-lift produced by the able Connecticut artist Linda Mark-Gould. Their tour guide or reporter explained to the group: "She already done restoration work at about six state houses," and she was now on her way to St. Paul, Minn., to check on the Capitol building.

In all probability, the speaker was not associated with the travelers, but shame on whoever appointed him to show the press around.

As every knowledgeable writer will agree, good grammar and bad grammar cannot be precisely defined. Good grammar means language used in ways acceptable to masters of the art. Bad grammar means using words in forms condemned by the many who still cherish the written and spoken word.

Today, correct use of verb tenses is so poorly executed the country over that authorities on language hesitate to discuss the art of paralleling, though they continue to practice what they seem disinclined to preach. In our recent column on the subjunctive, we quoted Edward D. Johnson's tongue-in-cheek comment regarding this point. "In a few more generations," he suggested, "we will all be saying I wish I `am'."

In forming parallels, the still hopeful authority explained, the tense is determined by the logical relationship between the time of one verb's action and the time of another in the same sentence. This requires knowledge of the past perfect tense, which now appears to have been lost in the horse latitudes, so to speak. Note the following examples of neglect or ignorance of the construction.

The actress Gayle Gardner, in an interview relating to her acting prowess, expressed an early interest in medicine. To quote the gifted movie star, "I might have gone to medical school if I didn't have to take math courses."

I felt the actress should have been required to pass English even before math, though she probably wouldn't have had to know parallel tenses in any event. Had she been aware of the correct form, she could have said: "I might have gone to medical school if I hadn't had to take math courses to get in."

"Had I not been required" would have added polish, though polish is not expected in informal speech. Let us be grateful to the talented performer for sparing us "might of" -- or even "might of went," which is common among a number of our young people.

In an article about an accident that took two lives a short while back, a newsman wrote: "This accident wouldn't have happened if they were wearing seat belts."

Knowing the past perfect would not have saved any lives, but the wrong tense grates on the sensitive ear. So does the repetition of too many "would have" auxiliaries. Knowledge of briefer alternates is helpful to the writer who wants to improve his skill, and to anyone who values the sounds and structures of our language.

Three weeks ago, in a doctor's office, a patient sitting across from me exclaimed to another who had arrived: "If you would have called me, I would have driven you here!" Again, "If you `had' called me" would have been more pleasing to the ear. Gentle reader, if your ambition is to write and speak better, read the masters and listen up!

Charles Osgood, reviewing an exhibition of modern art on a recent "Sunday Morning," observed that art demands devotion. All the arts, including the art of writing and speaking well, demand devotion -- an observation that applies to every calling in life, be it acting, medicine, music, you name it.

A long-time friend of mine has expressed a profound admiration for a local ophthalmologist because the first time she went to his office, he entered the examining room humming a tune. My friend didn't name the tune, but what a way to show devotion to one's calling!

In all my years as a loyal patient of this highly-revered M.D., he has never greeted me with a hum. To hum a tune requires no use of parallel tenses, so why haven't my eyes inspired him to think of "The Last Rose of Summer"? I may have a question for this master of his art when he sees me on Aug. 8!

~Aileen Lorberg of Cape Girardeau is a longtime English grammar columnist for the Southeast Missourian.