Culture Shocking the Elderly

I have the mouth of a truck driver. Swearing and cursing comes quite naturally to me. On the one hand, I recognize that most often, cursing is the last resort of the uncreative. You see, when desperately searching for the appropriate adjective, the uncreative person simply applies fuck in some form to emphasize his statement. “What a fucking storm!” Or, “Fuck! What a storm.” Sometime even in the middle of a word, “Un-Fucking-Believeable storm!”

But other times the curse words are necessary to construct the appropriate meaning or paint a picture of your true feelings. “The boss just blew through here on a wild shit-storm.” Or, “Hey dickwad, cut the crap or fuck off.”

And goddammit! Sometimes it just feels good to let it fly, particularly if someone is being a fucknut.

Most people learned these words from other kids, often older kids, and upon trying them out at home, found they shocked the parents who thought for sure they raised better kids than that. “Where did you hear words like that?!” The shocked parents always asked.

Growing up in my house, it was never a question. No one had to ask, where did you hear words like that? The answer was always obvious:

My Mother.

I learned every swear word and inappropriate word combination from good old mom. With her deep Brooklyn accent, I was privy to colorful language unrivaled by any elementary school kid. If it wasn’t directed at me (whaddayou got shitforbrains? You’d forget you fucking head if it wasn’t attached), then it was directed at fellow motorists on the friendly highway known as the Long Island Expressway (Jesus Christ! Could you go any slower? You fucking moron!). At 5’2” and petite, you’d never expect this woman to race up to a dump trucker, force him to pull over, and bitch him out for flying debris cracking her windshield. She’s lucky she didn’t get shot.

At the ripe old age of three I uttered my first swear words. Sitting in my car seat strapped in the back of the station wagon, I sat and listened as my mother bitched out another motorist.

“Son of bitch cut me off,” she said.

“Ma, that guy’s a fucking asshole.”

My mother was taken aback. “Michael, that’s a very bad word, you should never say that word!” She exclaimed from the front seat while flipping off someone.

Of course I was sorry and ashamed; I hadn’t realized I had done anything wrong. “I’m sorry Ma, I won’t do it again. That guy’s a fucking moron.”

I had no idea which ones were good words, and which ones were bad words. Frankly I still don’t.

Now at the age of 32, I believed that I had heard the full gamut of curse words at my mother’s disposal. At the age of 55 she’s mellowed somewhat, and the street has all but been taken out of her as they (my father and her) attained some yuppie success in the 80s and carried it right through to today. Living in their McMansion with their perfect green lawn they embody all that you’ve come to expect from the Me Generation; classic elegance, refined tastes, intellectual conversation, the whole package.

So you can imagine my surprise when surrounded by all the accoutrements of the finer life, deep in conversation about the nature of education and the pros and cons of their state public school system as compared to our state public school system, she declares,

“It’s a suck-ass system.”

I guess you can take the girl out of Brooklyn but you can’t take the Brooklyn out of the girl. It’s not the words themselves that gave me pause. I’ve heard her say some thing “sucks”, and I’ve hear her say, “Get your ass in here,” many times in the past. But this “suck-ass” was decidedly modern, hip even. Certainly not something that was said in her day.

Somehow my 55 year old, hippie turned yuppie, turned grandma (that’s right she’s got three grandchildren), somehow she’s able to keep up on modern cursing.

When I’m her age, I can only hope that I show that much dedication to keeping up with my native language.