I grew up in a home where cussing was commonplace …. nothing vulgar – but the typical profanity and yes, the Lord’s name taken in vain. My father was a big, rough kind of guy and swearing was part of who he was. Mom cussed too, but to a lesser degree – and both could “abstain” from the bad words depending on who was around. I always understood those were not words I was to use… and I have a vivid memory of getting in trouble once, for saying hell. I was probably 7 or 8 years old when Mom told me to do something. I must have doubted my ability to complete the task and ended (or so I thought) the conversation with: “Well okay, but don’t give me hell if I don’t do it right.” Uh oh… that was one of the forbidden words and it had come out of my mouth! Trouble followed and I don’t recall (for many years) using salty (thus, soapy) language.
My children were raised (for the most part) in a ‘cuss-free home’. If a bad word was uttered, it was either under one’s breath or loud enough to make everyone run for cover. In either case, it was rare. Even the kids’ friends watched what they’d say when visiting and apologize if they swore. It wasn't like we posted signs prohibiting the use of certain words, it was just understood I guess.
Grandma has mellowed in her old age. I cannot remember her taking the Lord’s name in vain in years, although she has said a few times (when frustrated with her waning strength and stamina) “I’m not worth a damn.” (Remember, Grandma’s self-worth has always been rooted in what she can and can’t do.) Far be it from me to chastise her – all I can do is say “I’m sorry.” For all she can’t remember… she definitely can remember, all she could accomplish before old age stripped her of the satisfaction that comes with a difficult job, done well. That’s hard.
There’s one other phrase that Grandma has resumed using, which I hadn’t heard her say in a long while. The first occurrence (in our home) was a month or so ago when our son and 3 year old grandson were visiting. Grandma couldn’t find something and out of the blue says, “I don’t know where the Sam Hell it is.” (Shocked looks and concealed grins abound) No one says anything and I pray silently that the grandson hasn’t picked up on it … only to later give his mother or other grandparents, heart attacks by asking “Where the Sam Hell is my sippy cup?”
A few days later, we had another “Where the Sam Hell” utterance to which I said to Grandma, “I don’t know where you put it … and it’s Sam HILL … get it right.” This time it was NanaMama who got the shocked looks from everyone. “I Googled it,” I told them. (Sam Hill was a farmer and unsuccessful politician in 19th century New England … but I kept the History lesson to myself.)
At this point in the game, I’m choosing my battles. Whenever Grandma says “Sam Hell” – I reiterate “Sam Hill” …. If his is the only name she takes in vain… I sure as Sam Hill don’t care.
So ends Episode 21
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