Letting go ................ of the 'F' word ~

I begin by outing myself as someone who has never been shy about using curse words (though not from the pulpit!).  I grew up in a house where my father had a fondness for cursing at what always seemed like funny or appropriate moments.  I took great solace in having his ‘Bullsh*t’ mug in the pulpit when I delivered his eulogy.  I never considered my father crass or vulgar.  I still don’t.  That said, I am giving up the ‘F’ word.  Two recent encounters helped me make this decision.  Earlier I thought it was just the experience I had on the beach today.  But when I sat down to write this, I recalled an experience I had just before Christmas and realized the two are connected.

I took time out from writing today to head down to the beach here in Mexico.  It was very windy earlier so I decided to give up the swim to the reef to snorkel and sat down on the sand to dry.  I took in the crowd with great pleasure.  I was sitting on a stretch of beach that last year was primarily host to locals with tourists walking by in either direction to and from hotels and luxury condos.  This year, another beach club has been added nearby increasing the number of tourists, but still the locals come.  To my left, a young couple with three children.  The girls were threatening each other with handed loaded with sand.  I made contact rapidly to make sure they knew I was friendly AND would prefer that no sand land on me!  I smiled as they raced to and from the waves, giggling and playing games.  I particularly enjoyed when one led another with her eyes closed about, asking her to guess where she was at any given moment.  The leader glanced my way as if to say ‘you might become a destination too!’  If I encounter them again maybe we can build a sand castle together.  That was plan B for me if the sand fight continued!  In front of them a new family arrived and I watched Mom and Grandmother slather two toddlers with sunblock as they wriggled.  The call of the waves and three older girls too much to resist.  I smiled as one toddled off in that bouncy way toddlers run, reminded of one of my daughters who had that same bathing suit with ruffles around her solid toddler belly.  To my right, a young couple, most likely from my own country.  A couple in love.  He sweetly slathering her with sun block but ten minutes later teasing her with a hug from his ocean-dipped body!  A mother arrived, she in clothes, naked baby in arms and elder teen-aged daughter by the hand.  The two of them giggled as the mother tried to pull her daughter into the water.  A moment later I looked again and daughter was still dry but mother in drenched clothes with drenched baby was emerging from the water with a wide grin.  Many others were arriving, playing, enjoying.  How familiar it all seems.  How it is we, as humans, engage with all the shore offers – faces turn to the sun, umbrellas and hats are donned to protect, toes wiggle in the sand, towels are shaken before leaving, water invites, frightens, soothes, excites, the shoreline calls ‘play!’ 

It was nearly a perfect moment in time & place ~  And then, the word ‘f*cking’ broke the charm.  The seemingly sweet, caring and playful young man from the US seemed unable to complete two sentences in a row without using that word.  A word that I admit to have claimed ‘the perfect word’ for certain moments in life, sounded so abrasive, cheap and crass.  I don’t know that anyone else even took notice.  But for me, it took on a representative quality for who we are and how careless we can be with language.  Perhaps it offered an alert to what would follow.  The family with the two toddlers, mother, father and grandmother had settled in to relax and watch the two little girls.  The mother had crafted a nifty seat out of sand.  I had watched with interest as she scooped up sand to make a backrest and then plopped her bottom into the scooped out area.  How fabulous!  The reaction of the couple sounded like this:  She: it looks like they like to bury each other in the sand.  He: No, she made him a seat.  It’s strange, they don’t like blankets, you know.  I used to think it was a financial decision or about being lazy but .......

I didn’t wait to hear the end of the sentence ... I went and plunged into the ocean, wishing to distance myself from the couple, the certain knowledge that they are not alone in their stereotyping, and perhaps what he and I shared -- -the use of the ‘f’ word.  I cannot alter this young man’s perception of an entire community of people but today I can make the world a bit prettier by altering my own careless use of a word that to others can sound abrasive, cheap and crass.  ~

** The other experience was that of a five hour train between New York City and Boston that included a young man from Northeastern University who was VERY loud and couldn’t make it through one sentence without one of three curse words and the word ‘douche.’  When I asked him to either whisper or stop using the words, I heard comments about free speech, but was also thanked by the women sitting in front of me and behind the young men.  When I debarked earlier than he, I wished him a wonderful holiday and he apologized for his ‘potty mouth’ with a smile.  I was glad for the positive interaction but not hopeful.