Wicked Awesome

I have issues with words. I simply abhor terrible grammar and the trends by which improper pronouns and sentence structure seem to have become either “trendy” or perceived as correct. I’m not talking about slang or intentional laziness. I’m talking about journalists and other educated folks not knowing the difference between “she and I” and “her and me.” Then there are  the “irregardless” and “supposably” abrasive annoyances. I’m talking journalists here.

My other language peeve is the overuse of otherwise fine words. Everything seems to so easily be considered “iconic” or “groundbreaking.” But the worst offense me thinks (intentional, okay?) is the word “awesome.” Virtually anything someone really, really likes is “awesome.” 

Ever been to Yosemite or the Grand Tetons? Ever seen the California shore south of San Francisco or the Grand Canyon? I believe the word “awesome” was first created when someone...an English speaking pioneer...first pulled his pony up to the edge of the Grand Canyon and said out loud, “Wow, man...THAT is freakin’ awesome!” It likely echoed throughout the canyon and then Native Americans started using the word. “Mmmm....buffalo meat....awesome.” And the overuse probably if not likely began at that very meal.

Okay, I’ll allow a few exceptions. My dogs? Awesome. Great risotto? Yep. I’ve always thought that the view from an airplane window is most underrated, awesome one. And maybe...just maybe...there are a few certain interactions with a certain loved one when one might at least THINK.... “wow....awesome.” A magnificent symphony, with it’s intro theme, it’s quiet, reverent middle movement, and it’s thrilling crescendo, can be awesome. The anticipation, the building, the evocative changes, and the rush of a satisfying ending make up a most powerful, awesome, experience.

And for some reason...as I am prone to not only free association but also metaphor...leads me to memories with my mother. Prior to entering elementary school, in an effort to entertain me, she would drive me to the railroad tracks...a vantage point near our house where you could park literally feet from the rails. We would sit and wait in our big Oldsmobile and watch the round thing that had the lights. I think it was three green lights up and down that meant a train was coming. The anticipation was part of the entertainment of course.

The ground would slowly begin to tremble, long before any sign of the train. And then...and then...we would see the huge steely black steam engines approach. Sometimes there were two or even three engines coupled to carry an extremely long load. Those big wheels did keep on turnin’....smoke billowed out of the top...the ground shook. I can even remember the smells of the smoke and the hot steel. This is a memory that few will ever see again given the passing of these wonderful, AWESOME, machines. In the words of the talented guitarist and singer Norman Blake:

“Oh, if I could return to those boyhood days of mine,

 And that green light on the Southern, Southern Railroad      

  Line.”

But here’s the metaphor. Just as I’ve heard certain symphonies parallel life with their exciting, energetic beginnings, their pensive, reflective movements, and how it all seems to come together thematically toward the end, I might consider this train memory to preclude the experience of death. There is the waiting...is it coming? Do I feel it coming?” The body, like the ground beneath the steam engines, begins to feel a tremor...into a quake...and then the train passes with a roar and disappears into...well, like death, I never really knew. 

I looked forward to seeing the train. I don’t look forward to death...but it’s part of life and part of life’s experience. When I fly, I do prefer the window and the view and, as I’ve many times said, if the plane is going down, I want my final view to be a very awesome one. But I don’t want to crash just as I don’t want to die. It’s just that, in a very sad kind of way, it must be a very unique, awesome experience. I only hope that, just like the train, I’m headed someplace nice, that someone is watching for me as I pass by and that the destination has a great snack bar.

Death. Awesome. WICKED awesome.