I actually know the French expression for "good words" but I am using English. I am reminded of Prof. Leon Lewis of the English department, who signed some minutes as "Secretary for the time" instead of "Secretary pro tem" as many others habitually did. I am a fan of rather plain language, since it is often quicker and more directly absorbed that Latin or French.
I have felt most of my adult life that some phrases seem to nourish me, at least for a while. Like a good meal, a good drink [try the walnut Manhattan or the pink Russian discussion at Father Fats] a good phrase can last a while in my head, not all that different from a good tune.
I like to jot down ideas for blog posts. When I write for this blog, I start with examining what is on my mind and what has been happening in my life. This morning, we attended the kids' soccer games. (Both Stevens kids are so outstanding, I can't believe they are related to me. I am the college freshman player the coach addressed,"Kirby, sit down!" when he saw me running about without using brain or eyes.) After checking my life's current events and flavors, I check my list of of prompts, most recent first. Whether they are recent events or recent thoughts, when I have five choices, I pick one and write.
When I checked the recent prompts, I read
In 5 billion years, the sun is predicted to expand sufficiently that it will engulf the earth and vaporize everything on it. Lynn asks,"Then, what are we going to do?"
What are we ourselves going to do? We figure we will be past worrying about breath, budgets or birthdays. Since we will be well past the age for any leadership or commentary duties, we wish those in charge at the time the best of luck.
I admire some poetry and find good words there, too, of course. My head especially benefits from Billy Collins and George Bilgere. But I like to keep an ear out for constructions that give me a lift in normal everyday writing or unusual sources. This morning, I read the dedication of David Rose's book "Your Body Knows the Answer":
To my parents, who loved me into existence
I find it is difficult, actually impossible, to look both ways simultaneously when crossing a busy street. Similarly, I find few people who seem to look both to their own conception and childhood and also to their own parenting. It was fortunate for us that our own parents loved us into existence, wasn't it?
