I was an early reader and a HUGE Hardy Boys fan. I had devoured pretty much the entire series by 2nd grade. Every book would have some background introduction material in the first chapter so new readers could get acquainted with the boys, their “portly” (yet “stout-hearted”) friend Chet, their family, and whatever other details were going to be crucial to the plot. The writers (Franklin W Dixon was a pseudonym!) in their 1920s style prose, always described the Hardy patriarch, Fenton, as a “crack detective.” (Crack = sharp, expert). I had pontificated on this and concluded that there was some sort of elite force in each police department with special abilities, sort of like superheroes. When our teacher announced that we were going to have a field trip to the police station, I was giddy with excitement. I couldn’t wait to impress the detectives with my insider knowledge of the secret workings of the justice system. I waited patiently through the tour and then totally confused the officer leading the Q&A by asking if their station had any crack detectives. This was before the crack epidemic, so my teacher thought I was talking about butt cracks and chastised me for being disrespectful, then told my mother that I had been smarting off to the cops. Total mortification and confusion.
Among other confusing things in the Hardy Boys was the way that criminals, especially foreign criminals, were always “swarthy,” which I presumed from the general context to mean evil, like a warty witch.
I read Nancy Drew books and they always referred to keeping things in her “pocketbook.” Having never heard this word used to refer to a purse before, I pictured her tucking her lipstick, money, etc. in between the pages of a paperback novel. Which made no sense to me - everything would fall out.
There was a poster in our gym at elementary school that showed a picture of what I now know was a marathon. It said something like “Exercise will help you in the long run”. I knew I had heard adults using the phrase “in the long run”.
I concluded that there was going to be some kind of race that everyone had to participate in called “The Long Run” and I didn’t think it was fair to make kids run against grown-ups.
Later in life I wondered if Stephen King had this same poster in his gym at school.
I was, er, possibly into my thirties before I realised that if you do something “painstakingly” then you’re taking pains over it. I never could figure out how you stake pain.
When I was a kid , I watched part of a TV documentary on Hitler’s" persecution of the Jews," and saw some of those horrid images of the skin and bone survivors of the concentration camps. I asked my older brother about the word persecution and he filled me in on the basics of genocide.
The next Saturday I went to the town dump with my father, and saw a warning sign that said “No Food Products in the Trash, Violators will be Prosecuted.” I read “prosecuted” as “persecuted” and thought the punishment was a little harsh for mixing in garbage with the trash.
As a young man, I dated a young woman attending Art School. Once I suggested a dinner date, and she replied it would have to be a late dinner, since she had a Figure Painting class. I heard it as “Finger” Painting, and told her I really enjoyed finger painting as a kid. She’s still laughing about it.
When we used to go to the beach, my mother always warned me about the Under-tow. I heard it as under-toe and thought it meant to watch out for the bottoms of my feet. I had to laugh when, years later, I read The World According to Garp, and how young Garp heard it as “under-toad.”
While reading the thread I was reminded of elementary school and the teacher asking what “unanimous” meant and my cousin Jerry answered that it meant everyone agreed. So I stuck up my hand and asked how you would know everyone agreed if you didn’t know who they were.
My teacher eventually stopped laughing and explained the difference between unanimous and anonymous.
At around age 6 I somehow got the notion that the idea of being sick or ill included anything you might have to go to a hospital for, like major injuries. So, for example, someone recovering from a broken leg was sick in the sense of suffering from a disease of some kind. As is typical with young children, most diseases I knew about were contagious, so I wondered if I could catch something by being in the same room with anyone wearing a cast. I didn’t think I could catch a broken leg as much as some other kind of malady like the flu or a cold.
My kindergarten teacher’s name was Miss Milman. So of course I had to ask her one day if her husband was a mailman.
Also, when my older brother went in for a tonsillectomy, I asked my mother what exactly “tonsils” are. She told me that they are small pieces of tissue in the back of the throat. So for years, I imagined tonsils as being little wads of Kleenex.
During summer afternoons in the early Sixties, my parents would often ask one another what or how the Dodgers did that day. This led to my long-held belief that “Dodger” and “baseball player” were synonymous and interchangeable terms. In fact, I’m giving serious consideration to going back to that viewpoint. That way, the Dodgers win the World Series EVERY YEAR!
