I Stand Corrected

It has come to my attention that my post of a couple days ago about hats (see below) is in need of a slight revision. The aspersions that I cast on the wearing of a beret, while in general quite called for, and for which I stand by wholeheartedly, should not, and from henceforth do not, naturally, encompass or include any beret-wearing member of the United States military (i.e. anyone who could kill me with his or her bare hands while being polite about it and calling me "sir" repeatedly). If ever a beret had a rightful, righteous place on somebody's head, it is on the head of a member of the armed services. It says might with elan, which if that isn't a solid definition of America, find me a better one (now if that doesn't get the specters of Staff Sgt. Barry Sadler and Marion Mitchell Morrison aka John Wayne out of the waking and sleeping nightmares I've been enduring all week, maybe I'll consider the French Foreign Legion). A beret on a civilian head, meanwhile, says twee with self-consciousness, which if that isn't the definition of sartorial carnage, find me a better one (of course, speaking of standing corrected, any pretty woman wearing a raspberry beret and coming in through the out door is granted a lifetime cool pass).

But enough about berets. While I'm doing so, and this being Lent and all, I might as well correct a few other slight mistakes with regard to what I've said and/or written over the years. Yes, when I was a teenager back in the glorious late 70s, when fashions had run amok and designer jeans were all the rage, I declared (and thankfully, technology being what it was back then, there is no video of said declaration to haunt me) that no one over the age of 25 should be allowed to wear jeans. Ah, youth. Brash, self-righteous, finger-pointing youth. Nevertheless, I'm still adamantly against any jeans that cost more than a half-tank (well, I guess I better go a full tank, these days) of gas. Side thought: Do you think that with the proliferation of "business casual" and the heedless march of evolution, one day, maybe thousands of years from now, human babies will be born wearing jeans?

Another faux pas, not so much spoken/written as committed: As a little kid, I once shovelled the snow off of the front yard and onto the driveway so that I could enjoy another game of solo football, complete with simultaneous play-by-play and color commentary. Every shovelful of the white stuff I've hoisted ever since (and here in Cleveland on April Eve we're not out of the snowy woods yet, as yesterday's Old Man Winter's dying wheeze showed) I believe has been payback for such a winter transgression (sorry mom and dad).

To Terry Montague, my former English student: I apologize for taking a point off one of your essays for misspelling the word traveler. Yes, traveller is an accepted variant spelling. I stand corrected of my mis-correction. I believe the additional point would have bumped you from a B+ to the A- you so fervently craved. I apologize for any wrath you might have endured in your home for the grade, privileges that might have been withheld, and any remuneration you lost out on. The damage to your GPA is regrettable; if you missed out on any college admission or career advancement opportunity as a result, I'll wear my hairshirt in your honor throughout April.

Similarly, I apologize to my sixth period class that day when, in the middle of pontificating about something or other, I answered "yes" when asked, "Are we going to be quizzed on this?" You see, I had it on solid intelligence that the Head of School was going to be prowling the halls that afternoon with a Major Donor in tow, and I wanted to make sure my classroom looked properly academic to passing eyes. Any carpal tunnel damage and useless destruction of the environment caused by all of your scribbling note-taking is regretted. That said, I do not now, nor will I ever, take back anything I ever said, or will say, about Mr. Darcy. The man's a freakish fop and would probably wear a beret if he were strutting around today.

Finally, as an addendum to another recent post (see below, further), yesterday I mistakenly placed a book about bonsais on the plant shelf. Later I looked down and saw a bevy of bonsai books on the trees and shrubbery shelf. Although I did re-shelve the book, I still regret my flora/fauna ignorance.

There, that feels great. Weights and weights off my shoulders and conscience. Gee, if I had to stand corrected every day and actually did make the corrections, I would feel like The Plain Dealer.