Judge Not? How Would You Survive?

Writer’s block isn’t always bad. In fact, this is a good writer’s block, and I always have something to say…or write.

It would be too easy to spout off about how the weather forecasting fraternity put on a lavish Broadway musical this past August when Tropical Storm Irene passed through most of New Jersey. That’s what it was—a tropical storm, even though the actors in the musical referred to it as “Hurricane” throughout their performance.

I had enough knowledge about storms to realize that when a storm passes through your area with a wind speed that peaks at 67 miles per hour, it can’t be a hurricane.

So, despite what was being pitched to me, I made a personal judgment while the storm alternately raged and sputtered down my street. And I decided that we weren’t getting a hurricane; we were in the midst of a tropical storm.

And I could do this because I am a judgmental animal—a human being. We are the only animals that make judgments. That’s how we survive.

All other members of the animal kingdom survive by instinct. They make instinctual decisions; not conscious ones. Only Homo sapiens evaluate the situation, and then make rational judgments regarding what they should do next.

You make a judgment every time you approach a changing traffic light—Can I make it in time? Should I stop?

You make a judgment every time you go shopping—Can I afford those shoes? Do I really need a new cordless drill?

We could not survive very long without making judgments—which are nothing more than conscious decisions, made by (hopefully) rational beings.

A co-worker once gave me his unsolicited opinion of all Christians, fully aware that I was one. “I don’t care for them,” he said. “They’re sooooo judgmental.”

I asked him simply, “Is that your personal judgment?”

“Why yes,” he replied, clearly not seeing the irony of his position. He walked away quite pleased with himself.

And I get so tired of hearing people claim they prefer the company of their dog or cat to that of a fellow human. “They never judge me,” is the reason I most often hear.

That’s because they can’t. They can merely react instinctually. Only the human beings you interact with can judge you—just as you judge them, whether you want to admit it or not.

And I know some people think they are just sophisticated apes who walk upright, have opposable thumbs and just happen to possess a larynx. So people like that, I guess, are little more than baboons with vocal chords. At least that’s my evaluation.

God, but I can be sooooo judgmental at times.

Well here’s a judgment I’d like you to make. Tune in to Cucina Chatter and hear my commentary every Tuesday between 1-2 p.m. Hosted by Lorraine Ranalli, you can listen at http://www.wbcb1490.com/

And of course you can make judgments any time you want by logging on to www.jimvanore.com.

Rather Correct than Politically Correct

Writers —American writers at least—must, of a necessity, have a love of and respect for the English language. As a long time journalist, I aspired to have my columns and articles written correctly—meaning accurately, with not only grammatical correctness, but logical correctness as well.

I’ve always felt that a writer’s first duty was to be kind to his readers, and to me, that means being understandable.

Being concise.

Being correct—not politically correct.

And there is a difference.

To be politically correct—by its very connotation—means to be incorrect.  Otherwise, we wouldn’t have to license the term with the adverb “politically.”  We would just say, “It’s correct.”

When I sat on the Historic Preservation Commission in Cape May County back in the 1990s, one of the members remarked that she was glad that a recently published history book referred to the Lenni-Lenape tribe as Native Americans, instead of Indians.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Well, you wouldn’t understand,” she said. “You’re not a Native American.”

“Oh no?”  I answered. “I was born in Pennsylvania, as were both my parents. If I am not therefore a Native American, can you please tell me of which country am I a native?”

She just stared at me, so I continued, “Or do you believe that I’m a man without a country?”

Again, just a stare, so I added, “There are only two kinds of Americans—Native and naturalized. My grandparents emigrated here from Europe, so they would belong to that latter group who became naturalized Americans. My parents and I are Native Americans—plain and simple."

Still, the stare, and a noticeable creasing of her brow. So I went on, “By calling American Indians 'Native' preclusively, you’re insulting the hundreds of millions of the rest of us who were born here. And by the way, do you know what the word ‘Indian’ means?” I added.

This woman still wasn’t speaking; she was just glaring at me. So I explained the etymology of the word to her.

“It comes from the ancient Sanskrit language, and translated literary it means, ‘original people.’ From its root we get the word ‘indigenous.’ So in miss-naming the people he found in this hemisphere, Columbus could not have been more accurate. Could he?

“Call them original Americans…” I continued, "call them indigenous Americans; call them American Indians…all those terms are accurate. But don’t insult me by telling me I’m not a Native American.”

So I’ll close by saying you’ll have to excuse me if I offend your sensibilities by preferring correctness over political correctness.

And remember, you can hear my commentary every Tuesday between 1-2 p.m. on “Cucina Chatter,” hosted by Lorraine Ranalli at http://www.wbcb1490.com/

Oh…and that member of the Historic Preservation Commission? She never appeared at another meeting. Veracity, exactness, accuracy, correctness…now and again these things just don’t sit well with some people.

In short, I’d rather be correct than politically correct.

For more politically incorrect literature, check out www.jimvanore.com.