We debated the merits of trying to call the Service, but we decided that the odds of finding the person who'd been looking for us, when we didn't know his or her name or what it had been concerning, would be pretty slim. We probably should have tried anyway. Benjamin tried to call his old co-worker back, but he wasn't around, so Benjamin left a quick message. After speculating about what interest the National Park Service could possibly have in talking to Benjamin, we honestly forgot about it for a while and headed off to typo-hunt.

The following morning, we journeyed up to the pleasant suburban town of Hudson, where my father and stepmother live. I'd planned to spend several days with them, since I pa.s.sed through northeastern Ohio infrequently and I had some filial duties to catch up on. Though Benjamin and I enjoyed the respite, the town would yield one of the strangest and most appalling interactions of the entire trip. I had rarely spent much time in any one place, and a week in Hudson could have been pushing it. Realizing our proximity to Cleveland, Benjamin played nothing but Bone thugs-n-harmony during our outings, and that also made our stay seem longer. Even with plans to spend our last couple days visiting Cleveland proper and my other sister's college, Kent State, we were sc.r.a.ping the barrel for fertile typo ground by our last leisurely Hudson hunting day, despite Dad's best efforts at searching out new venues in the area. Fortunately, we'd saved a patch of the town square, and here we went into every single store, finding little in typo quant.i.ty, but much in sinister quality.

My first impression of the Miracle on Main Street shop was appreciative: a weird amalgam of office/school supplies and toys that weren't mindless junk to clutter kids' rooms. This place had a laudably educational orientation, with products ranging from the learning is fun! learning is fun! extreme back to the more natural extreme back to the more natural give kids something more interesting to give kids something more interesting to do do than watch TV than watch TV. Craft kits adorned the walls, and a spinner rack featured an abundance of energetic play aids, including jump ropes and hula hoops. Alas, before I could picture a pastoral landscape filled with sickeningly bubbly children leading delight-heavy existences under a friendly sun, that destroyer of dreams interfered once again. I gawked at the sign upon finding it. YEAR AROUND FUN! PLAY IN DOORS & OUT! YEAR AROUND FUN! PLAY IN DOORS & OUT!

Hm. Playtime in America might have been a wee bit ... outsourced. While the policy of the League involved not picking on speakers of English as a second language, this was different. The sign had likely originated somewhere else, but it had landed in northeast Ohio, and here in an education-oriented store of all places, it was perfectly fair to address the idiom trouble that the makers of this sign had run into. I went for a clerk. Benjamin and I were the only ones in here at the moment, so I didn't have to be shy about stealing time away from an actual customer.

When I pointed out the sign's strange claim of "year around fun," the clerk replied, "It just means that you can enjoy this in spring, summer, winter, or fall." She didn't sound sound like she was making fun of us, but I didn't know what to say next. like she was making fun of us, but I didn't know what to say next.

At my silence, Benjamin stepped in, presuming that she hadn't known what I was talking about and so, not knowing how to respond, had offered a ridiculously obvious clarification. He saw her bet: "See, the uh, problem is that it says year around around fun instead of fun instead of year-round year-round, which is the usual expression."

"Oh," she said, looking over. "Well, I believe they're making a pun."

Okay. Jump ropes, hula hoops. Year around around fun. Right, ha ha. I might have accepted this defense of her sign if it hadn't had another quirk: fun. Right, ha ha. I might have accepted this defense of her sign if it hadn't had another quirk: PLAY IN DOORS & OUT PLAY IN DOORS & OUT. I let her pun theory pa.s.s with a quick dubious glance and switched to the other offender. "Okay, but check this out. 'Play in ... doors'? It should be 'play indoors.'" I spoke too confidently, certain she'd have no objection here. The absurd images conjured by the typo would do my work for me, I mistakenly a.s.sumed. Talking about it later, we realized that even the two of us had interpreted it differently. Benjamin had pictured someone attempting to work a hula hoop or skip rope within the confines of a door frame. I pictured something even more literal: playing in the doors like you'd play in the playground, which is to say within within it, like termites. it, like termites. Mom! My hula-hoop matter-phasing shut off, and I'm stuck inside the door again! Mom! My hula-hoop matter-phasing shut off, and I'm stuck inside the door again! To my dismay, the hula-hooping child wasn't the only thing out of phase. To my dismay, the hula-hooping child wasn't the only thing out of phase.

"No, I think that's right," the woman replied, yielding to the sign all judgment and authority. Someone had printed it printed it and released it to the four winds, so by G.o.d, it must be right. Who were we, mere individuals, to question the will of the toy manufacturers? and released it to the four winds, so by G.o.d, it must be right. Who were we, mere individuals, to question the will of the toy manufacturers?

"That's definitely wrong," I replied. Should I go into why? Should we talk about clarity of meaning? Now Now who would be explaining the-I'd believed-obvious? who would be explaining the-I'd believed-obvious?

Then she made a move that could very well have spun my opinion of her right around. She reached for a true authority to consult, a handy dictionary. I sighed in relief, ready to christen her as redeemed while she flipped to the letter i i. That was the value of a store emphasizing education. In the end, education isn't about how many facts you can cram into your head, it's about knowing how how to get the information you need. Even Conan Doyle's polymathic detective kept encyclopedias and atlases close at hand for quick reference. to get the information you need. Even Conan Doyle's polymathic detective kept encyclopedias and atlases close at hand for quick reference.*

Consider my shock when, in a vindicated tone, she declared herself right and put the dictionary nearly in my face with a smug "Look!"

We looked.

In and doors were separated by a dot. Many of the other words on that page, and the rest of the pages in the dictionary, had words broken up with dots. Though he looked somewhat peaked, Benjamin graciously accepted the weighty and irksome charge that now fell to us. "Um," he said. "That's a dot that separates the syllables of a word. That doesn't mean it's two words."

Silence. All the hidden host of the grammatical divine awaited her verdict. She gave Benjamin a look like he was trying to trick her, so I added, "Look at the other words. They have dots between their syllables, too." Oh, I'd been right about my opinion of her spinning around when she reached for that dictionary. Unfortunately, it had spun a full three-sixty. I would like to applaud her decision to bring the dictionary in as the decider, but at least a pa.s.sing familiarity with how a dictionary works would be helpful. The worst part, and we couldn't have known this at the time, was that she wouldn't be the last person we'd encounter who'd been smart enough to reach for a dictionary but then failed to be informed by it.* The bitter irony of being in this educational store with an employee who'd never been properly introduced to the dictionary was not lost on me. The bitter irony of being in this educational store with an employee who'd never been properly introduced to the dictionary was not lost on me.

"Oh, all right," she said finally, "but that still doesn't mean this is wrong." She gestured toward the sign.

Time to roll out the rusty old gimmick. "We're going around the country correcting typos," I began, and asked if perchance we could ...

"No." Emphatic, like scolding a toddler with an uncapped permanent marker who was heading for pristine walls.

I couldn't let this one go. I just couldn't, and I used the reason I couldn't let it go as my next argument. "We were thinking that since this store has an educational bent, you'd appreciate knowing about these typos, and that we could help out by fixing them."

"No, you cannot. My boss wouldn't like it. The corrections wouldn't look good."

At this point, another employee decided to join us. The first woman showed the newcomer the sign and explained that these two boys claimed claimed that "year around" wasn't right. "It that "year around" wasn't right. "It isn't isn't right," she replied. "It should be 'year-round.'" right," she replied. "It should be 'year-round.'"

"And I I was saying that it might be a pun." was saying that it might be a pun."

"... maybe."

"They were also saying that 'in doors' was a typo."

"It is. It should be 'indoors,' one word."

At long last! She'd finally gone to a source of recognized authority who had issued a definitive confirmation of our claims.

I tried to address the second woman, in the hopes that she could take over. "Can we fix these for you?"

"Well, I don't know. What did Hortense* say?" Uh-oh, she'd deferred back to the first woman. What was it with the reluctance to take authority here? say?" Uh-oh, she'd deferred back to the first woman. What was it with the reluctance to take authority here?

"I told them no," she said, as if that were the end of it. As if she hadn't been telling us no because she'd thought the sign was right. Then it occurred to me that perhaps she hadn't hadn't been telling us no because the sign was right. That she'd been claiming the sign was right to make it easier to tell us no. I pushed that thought away-I couldn't face what it implied. Perhaps knowing that I was about to ask her to reconsider, given her co-worker's opinion, Hortense intoned, "I would rather have a sign spelled incorrectly than a tacky-looking sign." been telling us no because the sign was right. That she'd been claiming the sign was right to make it easier to tell us no. I pushed that thought away-I couldn't face what it implied. Perhaps knowing that I was about to ask her to reconsider, given her co-worker's opinion, Hortense intoned, "I would rather have a sign spelled incorrectly than a tacky-looking sign."

Benjamin, who'd moved to the side at some point, pulled out his poetry notepad. He wrote down that resonating, cynical statement word for word so that we'd have it later for the blog. It had a compelling meter to it, I had to admit. And as good poetry can, it transcended the moment and spoke for more than the PLAY IN DOORS PLAY IN DOORS sign. In that moment, Hortense spoke for many like-minded people, all those who emphasized style over substance, appearance over accuracy. I nodded. In the end, she'd managed to impress me after all-impress a fist right into my gut. sign. In that moment, Hortense spoke for many like-minded people, all those who emphasized style over substance, appearance over accuracy. I nodded. In the end, she'd managed to impress me after all-impress a fist right into my gut.

"That's a good line," I said, and we left.

"So much for an educational store," Benjamin said as soon as we'd hit the sidewalk. "'I would rather have a sign spelled incorrectly than a tacky-looking sign.' Wow. That's deep."

"It does tend to sum things up, doesn't it?" Indeed, that concern had prevented us from winning permission a number of times. G.o.d forbid anyone should see evidence of an error corrected. You'd hardly appear infallible by not correcting the error. Ahh, but the correction, if not done to blend in perfectly (as I always strove to do), would draw attention to what most people might not otherwise notice. You could get away with it get away with it. Sigh ...

I mused on the cultural trend toward style over substance, and the more I thought about it, the more pervasive it seemed. Movies don't need a plot so long as we get lots of explosions and/or enough topless women. The whole idea of a fashion industry, offering clothing for their visual appeal, has somehow supplanted the actual utility of clothing. So much glitz and glam, so much money spent on marketing, and I wonder if that number correlates to what's spent on actually improving the products or services. I remembered in Las Vegas, we were visually stunned by the whole effect. "Looks like fun," we'd agreed, not realizing we'd captured the true spirit of the city. Yeah, it looks looks like fun so it can distract you as the greenbacks fly out of your wallet. What would a Las Vegas of substance over style look and feel like? like fun so it can distract you as the greenbacks fly out of your wallet. What would a Las Vegas of substance over style look and feel like? Charlie Rose Charlie Rose Land? Land?

I forced myself to lay these thoughts aside for a while and grabbed the volume of the complete works of Shakespeare I'd somehow left here the last time I'd been at my dad's. I'd have to remember to bring this along when we left Hudson.

The next day we headed into Cleveland and began our hunt at the Great Lakes Science Center, located between the Browns Stadium and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Yesterday's troubles had inspired us to check out other educationally oriented sites such as this. I confess that we got a little lost in the fun of hands-on activities aimed at scientific minds somewhat younger than our own. We shouted echoes through tubes, balanced beach b.a.l.l.s on air, set rubber rings spinning in place on a rotating metal disk, and sent puffy clouds of sublimating dry ice up to the ceiling. A couple times I had to turn myself around, saying, "Wait, I forgot to check for typos."

Having then checked, the place rea.s.sured me. For all the text we scanned, we uncovered only three mistakes, all of which could have been true typos in the typographical error sense, missing a key or hitting the wrong one. The emphasis on being a science science center hadn't kept them from performing better than average on the English front. I think I expected a certain rivalry among the core subjects. center hadn't kept them from performing better than average on the English front. I think I expected a certain rivalry among the core subjects. I don't care about multiplication tables-this is civics! I don't care about multiplication tables-this is civics! The Center gets an A in English for finding room for copyediting while journeying through the many steps of the scientific method. The Center gets an A in English for finding room for copyediting while journeying through the many steps of the scientific method.

We found, encased in gla.s.s, a plaque announcing a winning "eight-grader" 's science project. That one we couldn't touch, but the other two we amended. A simple mark indicated "no where" should be brought together, elsewhere. Finally, "Galileo Galilel" was an extremely easy fix, as we merely converted the top of that final 1 1 into a dot, making it an i. For spelling one of their main dudes wrong, Benjamin votes that they get an A-minus instead. Of course, my A rating could be too generous for a different reason. We made the corrections ourselves since no one seemed to be anywhere around to ask. I shudder to think we might have gotten the same reaction we'd gotten at Miracle on Main Street; the discovery that another education-oriented environment disdained our similarly intentioned efforts would have cut too deeply. The context was different here, though. The Science Center had a strict focus on content. No one here could have produced anything similar to Hortense's final remark without being laughed out of the halls of science. I could hear her now: "I'd rather misspell Galileo and confuse hundreds of children a day than have an ugly-looking exhibit explanation." "I'd rather have a broken flight simulator than a homely-looking flight simulator." No, I expected that the minds behind these accessible, effective exhibits wouldn't have much trouble using a dictionary. into a dot, making it an i. For spelling one of their main dudes wrong, Benjamin votes that they get an A-minus instead. Of course, my A rating could be too generous for a different reason. We made the corrections ourselves since no one seemed to be anywhere around to ask. I shudder to think we might have gotten the same reaction we'd gotten at Miracle on Main Street; the discovery that another education-oriented environment disdained our similarly intentioned efforts would have cut too deeply. The context was different here, though. The Science Center had a strict focus on content. No one here could have produced anything similar to Hortense's final remark without being laughed out of the halls of science. I could hear her now: "I'd rather misspell Galileo and confuse hundreds of children a day than have an ugly-looking exhibit explanation." "I'd rather have a broken flight simulator than a homely-looking flight simulator." No, I expected that the minds behind these accessible, effective exhibits wouldn't have much trouble using a dictionary.

We strolled around Cleveland and found a few more typos before heading back to my dad's, Bone Thugs blasting all the way. That night we shot some pool in my dad's bas.e.m.e.nt. Benjamin, still riled up from the Science Center, explained the physics behind each carom. Eventually I went to bed, but not to sleep. I'd put off going to bed because I knew that I couldn't drift off, not yet. I suppose I ought to be grateful to Miracle on Main Street for bringing my attention to something that should have been obvious to me from the start: that "year around fun" means fun through spring, summer, winter, and fall. No, wait: that my mission had at its very foundation an eye toward education. How had I been able to count on this many mistakes, knowing that I could find at least one daily? More than probability was at work, and more than a casual malaise. Was spelling and grammar education missing a few pieces? As much as TEAL had decided to act as editors rather than "defenders" of the English language, our treatment of perceived mistakes was only half the story. Before people could make mistakes, or not, they still had to learn the basic mechanics of spelling and grammar. As we collected more typos, we thought we saw evidence that these essentials weren't being fully acquired by the populace.

The contrast between what I'd found and what I'd expected to find gave me my first clue. I'd thought I would find a greater variety of typos. Sure, misspellings had caught my eye originally, and I'd known from the start that apostrophes would be problematic. Still, I'd imagined myself dealing with some of the more nuanced rules, earning thanks for explaining, "Couple "Couple is a tricky word. Like is a tricky word. Like number, all number, all, and none none, these subjects can be singular or plural depending on context. While a couple a couple (say, a couple of the toddlers in the room) could (say, a couple of the toddlers in the room) could hold still hold still for a picture you're taking, in this case, for a picture you're taking, in this case, the couple holds still the couple holds still. This couple functions as a single unit that happens to consist of two people in love, while the couple of toddlers are separate ent.i.ties. The The versus versus a a is usually a good hint." Even Benjamin, who hadn't known if I was serious about the mission, had identified subject-verb disagreement as his archnemesis, and h.o.m.ophones as his weakness. We'd seen fewer than a dozen h.o.m.ophones, and the barest suggestions of subject-verb disagreement. is usually a good hint." Even Benjamin, who hadn't known if I was serious about the mission, had identified subject-verb disagreement as his archnemesis, and h.o.m.ophones as his weakness. We'd seen fewer than a dozen h.o.m.ophones, and the barest suggestions of subject-verb disagreement.

By the time we reached Ohio, TEAL had already caught more than three hundred typos. What we'd found first was lack of apostrophic confidence and then misspellings galore. It was the misspellings, Benjamin had explained, that brought him back. He'd seen a pattern, as if he were Alan Turing. Many of the problems were oral-to-written conversion problems. Even the apostrophe fits in here since there's often no difference between the sound sound of the plural of the plural (watermelons taste great but peaches are better) (watermelons taste great but peaches are better) and the possessive and the possessive (a watermelon's seeds get everywhere, but the peach's pit is easy to deal with) (a watermelon's seeds get everywhere, but the peach's pit is easy to deal with). With misspellings, intelligent people obviously knew the word they wanted and knew how to use it properly, but they just didn't know how to spell it. So we knew where the problem was, and Benjamin hoped the specific examples we'd found would point to why.

As previously noted, English appears to be quite a mess. One could make vulgar a.n.a.logies about the way it allows words from other languages to, um, enter into its own lexicon. But English's ability to continually a.s.similate and grow is also a strong argument for its genius and beauty-and could even be a factor in its increasing dominance in world affairs. Certainly it improved our word selection to have similar words come in from different languages. Take a word like kill kill. Deriving ultimately from the Germanic kullen kullen, it's a short, punchy word that serves the basic idea of ending something's life. It has a brutal and blunt sound. But if we're talking about legally sanctioned killing, we don't want to sound brutal, so we turn to the more technical execute execute, derived from Latin by way of Old French, which was long the language of law in Norman-conquered England (as mentioned in chapter 13 chapter 13). For other specialized contexts, we can employ words such as a.s.sa.s.sinate a.s.sa.s.sinate, which hails (in corrupted form) from Arabic. In spite of foreign influxes, written English remains about 84 percent phonetically logical. The thing is, the words we found during our trip didn't seem as though they came from the 16-percent exception side of the aisle.

We were finding things that fit the rules, like "scalion" for scallion scallion, "puding" for pudding pudding, and "occa.s.sions" for occasions occasions. Double-letter problems ran amok, but even they couldn't compete with the vowel confusion, including "braclets" for bracelets bracelets, "absolutly" for absolutely absolutely, and "lemonaide" for lemonade lemonade. It's easy to see the pattern now, even sticking to the ones we found in March, the pool of data from which Benjamin drew his conclusions. Vowel trouble and double letters. "Absolutly" and "braclets" together indicate a second category, along with my first real find, "referal" for referral referral. Both types of difficulties would often take place at the junction between a root word and a suffix. The larger pattern into which these pieces fit, however, was an impression that the speller operated by guesswork. If these words were botched in defiance of their own phonetic logic, then what was the principle that guided the speller? There wasn't one. Many were guessing, as if they'd never been taught to pay attention to the letters while learning to read. When Benjamin stumbled upon a list of often-misspelled words in the 1955 cla.s.sic Why Johnny Can't Read Why Johnny Can't Read, he was shocked to behold that, fifty years later, the book still held predictive validity for our findings on the road. Vowel trouble and double letters ruled the list, and the author, Rudolf Flesch, addressed them directly.

Were students taught to memorize the word lists and not taught how how to spell? That's how I remembered spelling cla.s.s. We'd use a single set of words each week, then move on to a new set the next week. If you could spell them right on the first day of the week, you'd opt out of having to do that week's spelling homework; otherwise you'd work with those words over and over. The hope was that the word lists would add up to a vocabulary. Later we'd get vocabulary words plucked from whatever books we read in English cla.s.s, and thinking about the vocabulary words made me consider those spelling words from another angle. The idea of vocabulary words had been to teach you words you didn't know, definitions and all. to spell? That's how I remembered spelling cla.s.s. We'd use a single set of words each week, then move on to a new set the next week. If you could spell them right on the first day of the week, you'd opt out of having to do that week's spelling homework; otherwise you'd work with those words over and over. The hope was that the word lists would add up to a vocabulary. Later we'd get vocabulary words plucked from whatever books we read in English cla.s.s, and thinking about the vocabulary words made me consider those spelling words from another angle. The idea of vocabulary words had been to teach you words you didn't know, definitions and all. Felicitous, incessant Felicitous, incessant, and everyone's favorite word from Siddhartha: courtesan Siddhartha: courtesan. But I knew what most of the words in my spelling book meant by the time I saw them. It was rare for the spelling book to add any words to your spoken vocabulary. The purpose was what it claimed: to teach you how to spell those words. Except that there'd been one simple oversight in methodology. There was no instruction toward teaching anyone how how to spell the words. You just memorized them. to spell the words. You just memorized them.

Oral language is a natural process, and the written correspondence has to be taught. When it comes to knowing knowing words, children have budding oral lexicons that get a head start on the written. If we want to get kids spelling, reading, and writing, we have to teach them with a system of acquisition. We need to help them translate between the oral system they already possess and the written system. Looking back at the mistakes we'd found pointed to rules of spelling mechanics that hadn't been firmly planted in the spellers' minds. A doubled consonant makes the preceding vowel short, which might have been a helpful hint with "scalion" and "puding". More than helpful, it should have ruled out a double words, children have budding oral lexicons that get a head start on the written. If we want to get kids spelling, reading, and writing, we have to teach them with a system of acquisition. We need to help them translate between the oral system they already possess and the written system. Looking back at the mistakes we'd found pointed to rules of spelling mechanics that hadn't been firmly planted in the spellers' minds. A doubled consonant makes the preceding vowel short, which might have been a helpful hint with "scalion" and "puding". More than helpful, it should have ruled out a double s s in "occa.s.sions," which has a long in "occa.s.sions," which has a long a a. Then there's the silent e e, which sits after a consonant and makes the vowel preceding that consonant a long vowel, or, as teachers might explain it, the silent e e "makes the vowel say its name." Hence the long "makes the vowel say its name." Hence the long a a sound in sound in brace brace or or bracelets bracelets. I suppose I'd known these things on some level, with words like hope hope and and hop hop, which became hoped hoped and and hopped hopped, respectively. I couldn't remember explicitly learning about it. Then Benjamin had returned, carrying notes he'd taken from crawling through a segment of the library. While he might be a Hippie in dismissing complaints about "the degradation of the language," he did believe some helpful, basic facts had been missed by the methods that schools had their teachers using.

"They can't handle the junction," he'd said, back when I was in South Dakota. "Braclets" and "absolutly" were particularly painful for him to see as they were supposed to be the easy kind. Plus junctions: absolute + -ly absolute + -ly = = absolutely absolutely. Being able to recognize when to simply tack on the suffix and when something had to give, that was the first step. Then with that other kind of junction, the change junction, came the mutually exclusive consonant-doubling and e e-dropping rules. Hop -ed Hop -ed = = hopped hopped, and hope -ed hope -ed = = hoped hoped. Note that with these rules you preserve the phonetic integrity of the original words.

Hortense from Miracle on Main Street came to mind once more. Wasn't the problem she'd had with the dictionary the same problem that everyone seemed to be having with spelling? She had the dictionary right there right there, but she hadn't been taught how to use it. Teach kids to use a dictionary and give them the basic construction of phonics, and they ought to be able to spell most of the words they can say.* Once they actually get reading, the engine turns over, and they begin acquiring words both from conversation and from what they see on paper. We could give them the proverbial fishing pole rather than carping on lists of words. Otherwise, it'll all depend on what you can cram. In that case, I guess I'd have to thank my parents for a great verbal memory. Once they actually get reading, the engine turns over, and they begin acquiring words both from conversation and from what they see on paper. We could give them the proverbial fishing pole rather than carping on lists of words. Otherwise, it'll all depend on what you can cram. In that case, I guess I'd have to thank my parents for a great verbal memory.

I thought back to the dozens of spelling mistakes I'd seen along the way. We're all using way more words than anyone anyone can simply memorize. I suppose if you hold yourself to a limited vocabulary, you ought to be able to remember how to spell all the words you use, right? Or, if there's no dictionary handy, you should avoid writing a note to someone that uses words you can't recall, effectively making your written representation slightly less well versed than your spoken self. Those were my half-hallucinatory thoughts as I finally drifted off to sleep. I dreamed of cla.s.srooms with rows and rows of students, all taking a spelling test on the contents of the entire dictionary. Some students looked harried as they tried to remember the words and keep up with the monotonous teacher-voice listing the words; others had given up. I saw one little girl coloring a picture. She smiled up at me and said that the teacher won't mark her off as long as her paper looks pretty. Another kid was repeating tricks he'd learned for spelling individual words: "Wed-nes-day, can simply memorize. I suppose if you hold yourself to a limited vocabulary, you ought to be able to remember how to spell all the words you use, right? Or, if there's no dictionary handy, you should avoid writing a note to someone that uses words you can't recall, effectively making your written representation slightly less well versed than your spoken self. Those were my half-hallucinatory thoughts as I finally drifted off to sleep. I dreamed of cla.s.srooms with rows and rows of students, all taking a spelling test on the contents of the entire dictionary. Some students looked harried as they tried to remember the words and keep up with the monotonous teacher-voice listing the words; others had given up. I saw one little girl coloring a picture. She smiled up at me and said that the teacher won't mark her off as long as her paper looks pretty. Another kid was repeating tricks he'd learned for spelling individual words: "Wed-nes-day, Oh, see Oh, see the ocean, desert is barren and only has one the ocean, desert is barren and only has one s s but dessert is yummy and has two of them, there's but dessert is yummy and has two of them, there's a rat a rat in separate, Feb-ru-ary ..." in separate, Feb-ru-ary ..."

"Isn't this the information age?" I shouted. "What's the point of memorizing the whole dictionary?" My words echoed pointlessly on through the scholastic corridors of my nightmare.

TYPO T TRIP T TALLY.

Total found: 358 Total corrected: 192 * Said Holmes in his first recorded mystery, Said Holmes in his first recorded mystery, A Study in Scarlet A Study in Scarlet : "I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things, so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skillful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large a.s.sortment, and all in the most perfect order." : "I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things, so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skillful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large a.s.sortment, and all in the most perfect order."* See See chapter 16 chapter 16.* Name has been changed to protect the irrational. Name has been changed to protect the irrational.* Dealing with the exception words is typically the last part of phonics instruction. Dealing with the exception words is typically the last part of phonics instruction.

16

How Do You Deal?

May 1116, 2008 (Albany, NY, to Manchester, NH)Comedy or Tragedy, 'tis sometimes difficult to see when one lives the Play. Though in sight of familiar territory, the Journey nearly at its end, still the unwavering armies of error must be beaten back. From an Albany Fair, through the very Knowledge Halls wherein the idea of TEAL has its faintest beginnings, and at last into our Hero's stomping grounds of yore, astonishingly varied responses muddle the Duo. Sic vita est.

Reader, I would like nothing more than to spring immediately into the story of my triumphal return to New England: first our brief alighting in Hanover, where my friendship with Benjamin was forged, and then further backward in time to my hometown and a stay with my mother. The multifarious wonders that Benjamin and I encountered shall be related in due time, but I fear that before every dawn come the primordial frights of deepest night. The deeds done in Manchester, and the wisdom won there, cannot be complete without an account of important events preceding them. Had I my druthers, I would not speak of Albany at all, but the truth of the Tulip Festival must out. I plead with you to conceal the following episode from your children, until they've pa.s.sed the age of nightmares and can understand the virulent course that world events too often take. Further, I bid you steel yourself against the horrors I am compelled to describe, for you shall bear witness-in as brief and muted fashion as I can manage!-to the h.o.a.ry, pustuled flank of iniquity. For in Albany I faced the worst day of typo correcting I would ever experience, and I pray that none of us ever sees its like again.

As we pulled up to the curb at my uncle and aunt's place, we discovered that Uncle Bill had been waiting for us, seated out on the lawn playing with his dog Harley. He sported a bright yellow TEAL shirt, the first I'd seen in action since I set up the store online. Harley, too, was ready; the clever black Labrador bounded up to us, a favorite stick clamped in his mouth. Not to be outdone by husband or dog, Aunt Kristen appeared with a hug and a big tip: down the road in Washington Park, Albany's annual rite of spring, the Tulip Festival, romped and rollicked, much like Benjamin upon meeting Harley.

Finding a parking spot down near the festivities proved to be a trial that required advanced skill checks in Patience, Navigation, Creativity, and Eyesight. "Everybody remember where we parked," Benjamin remarked as we set off down the long road to the festival, which teemed with people celebrating the heritage of the oldest Dutch settlement in the country. Booths of a.s.sorted arts and crafts lined the dirt paths, and at the paths' intersection stood a cl.u.s.ter of food wagons. We merged into the ma.s.ses and began to visit the little tents, which ranged from mundane trinkets to some inspired pieces of art or its close facsimile. Oh, and gifts and treats galore. Candles and chocolate and perfumes and potions. And typos. Yes, we'd come to a swollen ca.n.a.l of errors, and now needed only to unplug the dike.

It began at the candy stand, with a tough one. They were selling chocolates called "non-pariels," which I pointed out to the attendant should actually be nonpareils nonpareils (from the French word meaning "unequaled" or "peerless," testifying to the candy's excellence). He nodded quickly, somewhat busy with sweet-toothed Albanians. I didn't believe he'd do anything about it, but I also didn't want to make him drop a sale, so we moved onward. Already I worried that if everyone was working in high gear, trying to fit as many sales as possible into the fleeting window of the festival, we'd seem more intrusive than usual. The first incident had been candy, though, always a sure sales bet, and the next tent where we spotted an error didn't have the same feel. Here a few people browsed the paintings for sale, but no one was ready to actually purchase anything. One lady actively introduced herself to people while a large tattooed guy-the one in charge?-reclined in a seat at the back corner of the tent. (from the French word meaning "unequaled" or "peerless," testifying to the candy's excellence). He nodded quickly, somewhat busy with sweet-toothed Albanians. I didn't believe he'd do anything about it, but I also didn't want to make him drop a sale, so we moved onward. Already I worried that if everyone was working in high gear, trying to fit as many sales as possible into the fleeting window of the festival, we'd seem more intrusive than usual. The first incident had been candy, though, always a sure sales bet, and the next tent where we spotted an error didn't have the same feel. Here a few people browsed the paintings for sale, but no one was ready to actually purchase anything. One lady actively introduced herself to people while a large tattooed guy-the one in charge?-reclined in a seat at the back corner of the tent.

A laminated sign advertised that pet-centered art had been created by an "internationally renown artist" who shall go unnamed, lest the source of her renown become reknown. When the woman didn't seem occupied with anyone else, I casually caught her attention, but upon mentioning the word renown renown, the tattooed man broke in, antic.i.p.ating my objection. "That's spelled right."

The woman wandered away without having spoken a word. Clearly she didn't want to be in the conversation if he'd claimed it. I turned, awkwardly addressing him across the tent while standing in front of the sign. I didn't want to come at at him, and he made no move to rise. I attempted to clarify, though I already felt put on the defensive by the ferocity of his claim. Well, yes, I told him, renown had been spelled correctly. "It's just that it should be renown him, and he made no move to rise. I attempted to clarify, though I already felt put on the defensive by the ferocity of his claim. Well, yes, I told him, renown had been spelled correctly. "It's just that it should be renowned."

"No, listen," he almost shouted, pointing an accusing finger in such a practiced motion that, for a second, I thought he might be Bill O'Reilly in inked-up disguise. "I wrote that sign, and it's right. First I thought the word had a k k in it, so I checked the in it, so I checked the dictionary dictionary. It said renown is a word-so it's right." right."

"Oh yeah, of course renown renown is a word," I agreed. "It's just that is a word," I agreed. "It's just that renown renown is the noun and is the noun and renowned renowned is the adjective. If you'd said she was a person of international renown, that'd be one thing, but internationally is the adjective. If you'd said she was a person of international renown, that'd be one thing, but internationally renowned renowned needs the needs the -ed." -ed."

"What school do you teach at?" he replied. I couldn't be certain if he was checking my credentials to see if they outranked his use of the dictionary, or merely mocking me.

I settled for my standard response: "We're going around the country correcting typos." For proof, I reached for a TEAL business card, which he immediately told me he didn't need-because he wasn't changing it wasn't changing it. I wondered what would have happened if I'd said, "Actually, my dear fellow, I teach Platonic rhetoric and postmodern orthographic theory at the the University, but I've deigned to give a guest lecture at your risible local college." Would he have stuttered into an appreciative tone and asked me to proofread his entire tent-if I could spare the time? Somehow I doubted it. University, but I've deigned to give a guest lecture at your risible local college." Would he have stuttered into an appreciative tone and asked me to proofread his entire tent-if I could spare the time? Somehow I doubted it.

I winced from his rebuke and trudged onward up the dusty track, Benjamin at my side. I hacked some grit out of my lungs and commented that we couldn't do worse than that ugly scene. When will I learn not to say things like that?

We got a much more polite rejection of our offer to fix the next problem we saw. In yet another tent, a man in a smart beret allowed us to handle a small apostrophe problem after recognizing us from one of the news stories last month. Had our fortunes changed? Alas, he would prove to be the radical exception for TEAL's day at the fair-and I'm not just talking in terms of fashion sense.

A triply erroneous sign taunted us from its lofty position upon a tent. Vidalia Vidalia is not a word with an obvious spelling, especially if you don't know how to p.r.o.nounce it (hence, "Vadelia"-or even "Vidaria," as I noticed in a produce market in Hoboken), and is not a word with an obvious spelling, especially if you don't know how to p.r.o.nounce it (hence, "Vadelia"-or even "Vidaria," as I noticed in a produce market in Hoboken), and vinaigrette vinaigrette is moderately challenging, so I could see how "vinegarette" had happened. But "tomatos"? is moderately challenging, so I could see how "vinegarette" had happened. But "tomatos"? A ladder! a ladder! my sidekick for a ladder! A ladder! a ladder! my sidekick for a ladder! As we continued to breathe in kicked-up dirt and tried not to rub too much against our many neighbors, I spied the promise of Island Noodles, complete with the authentic taste of "Hawiian Island Sauce". Benjamin immediately rated this typo correction as a high degree of difficulty. The sign had been placed within the tent, up past the grill where they cooked their Noodles until the food achieved maximum tastiness, or, in island parlance, As we continued to breathe in kicked-up dirt and tried not to rub too much against our many neighbors, I spied the promise of Island Noodles, complete with the authentic taste of "Hawiian Island Sauce". Benjamin immediately rated this typo correction as a high degree of difficulty. The sign had been placed within the tent, up past the grill where they cooked their Noodles until the food achieved maximum tastiness, or, in island parlance, broke da mouth broke da mouth. We headed around the tent to where an underling wandered around without a clear purpose. Woe betide the traveler attempting to merge onto the road paved with good intentions, which too often forces you back down the exit ramp. Though we'd tried not to perturb the chef himself, the underling merely turned and began to relay our request. The busy Noodler raised his beefy head from that steaming grill and aimed a broad smile directly at us. Then, interrupting the question being pa.s.sed to him, he provided a single word in a flat baritone: "No." His eyes sparked with glee in the instant the word popped out, as if this was the most fun he'd have all day, though, granted, it probably was. His head fell back into the steam, our existence forgotten; the underling returned to his hesitant circles at the back of the tent.

"I once fell in love with a girl from New York," Benjamin said.

"Oh yeah, and how'd that work out?"

"I got rejected. Pretty much like that. Though her 'no' was in a higher register."

We spied some fresh produce and made a stealth correction to a sign offering "tomatoe" (there (there was the missing was the missing e e that had migrated from "tomatos"!) before deciding we'd had enough. Benjamin looked exhausted, which isn't something you see every day, and I confess this place had an ill effect on me-I was turning grouchy. Escape, however, wouldn't be so simple. As we headed down the lane leading out of the park, I caught sight of an oddity ingrained in wood, amid hand-carved goods in one last tent. "Excuse me," I forced myself to say to the woman seated behind the table, "I noticed on one of your signs-" that had migrated from "tomatos"!) before deciding we'd had enough. Benjamin looked exhausted, which isn't something you see every day, and I confess this place had an ill effect on me-I was turning grouchy. Escape, however, wouldn't be so simple. As we headed down the lane leading out of the park, I caught sight of an oddity ingrained in wood, amid hand-carved goods in one last tent. "Excuse me," I forced myself to say to the woman seated behind the table, "I noticed on one of your signs-"

"We don't sell any signs signs here," she corrected. "We sell here," she corrected. "We sell artwork." artwork."

After the beatings I'd taken, this response made me much less interested in sparing her feelings. I blurted, "Okay. There is a typo typo in your in your artwork artwork. Unless it's a pun? 'Bon Appet.i.te'?"

"It's not a pun; it's a phrase."

I could tell she enjoyed the rhythm she had going. Oh wait, sorry. It's not a rhythm, it's a sentence structure It's not a rhythm, it's a sentence structure.

Rather than take her artwork and slam it against my skull, I replied, "It shouldn't have an e e on the end." on the end."

"Well, people are still buying it!" she replied. Then she loosed a long, evil cackle. Fool, the free market has triumphed over your silly normative spelling conventions! WUAH-HA-HA-haaahhhh ... Fool, the free market has triumphed over your silly normative spelling conventions! WUAH-HA-HA-haaahhhh ... With her laughter ringing in our ears, we hurried from the Tulip Festival, gladdened at least to have escaped with our souls intact. Back in Callie's steel-reinforced safety, I checked to make sure my own name was still spelled correctly. With her laughter ringing in our ears, we hurried from the Tulip Festival, gladdened at least to have escaped with our souls intact. Back in Callie's steel-reinforced safety, I checked to make sure my own name was still spelled correctly.

After having been shouted down by the renown guy, shut down by the Hawiian noodle chef, and cackled at by the artwork artwork woman, I expected to feel saddened, confused, and angry, seasoned with a generous helping of weariness. Brutal as the festival had been, though, some magic note of dissonance produced in me an ironic reaction against the att.i.tudes I'd experienced. Yes, an incongruous light-hearted feeling descended upon me, and I opened myself up to the world with a curious receptivity. As Benjamin had noted in returning to the adventure, the value of the experience might lie in rolling with whatever came our way, and seeing where it led. woman, I expected to feel saddened, confused, and angry, seasoned with a generous helping of weariness. Brutal as the festival had been, though, some magic note of dissonance produced in me an ironic reaction against the att.i.tudes I'd experienced. Yes, an incongruous light-hearted feeling descended upon me, and I opened myself up to the world with a curious receptivity. As Benjamin had noted in returning to the adventure, the value of the experience might lie in rolling with whatever came our way, and seeing where it led.

The next day we went hunting through Albany again, with a newspaper team joining us for the tour of basically a couple blocks. We introduced them to the inevitable towing signs warning of "owners expense," and some a.s.sorted merriments typical of our quest, including a sign above a small flowerbed that read, THIS IS THIS IS NOT NOT A TRASH CAN PLEASE DONT LITER IN IT A TRASH CAN PLEASE DONT LITER IN IT! Alas, with hate speech like that, the metric system will never find a home Stateside. The tour didn't last long-we discovered that many businesses were closed on Monday in Albany, at least in the neighborhood we visited. With the hunt done, we had dinner with one of my pals from the old Washington publishing days, and met the young man to whom this book is dedicated. When last I'd seen them, Henry was a mere mound rising from the midsection of his mother.

Here our eastward return offered a strange reflection of the westward venture. As New Orleans had followed Mobile, so too would Albany be counterbalanced by a more hopeful locale. No place could have served that purpose better than our alma mater, where Benjamin and I had first met, as well as being the site of the first stirrings of my mad destiny. Somehow I couldn't quite believe this adventure had nearly come to its end. I felt as though I'd only begun to pull it all together, that I needed more time to synthesize it and start doing things right.

It had been nearly a year since the perfect June weekend that had seen the genesis of the League. Now I found myself on the same postcard streets, on an equally stunning day. Sun warmed the Georgian brick of the campus, and the green crests of nearby mountains seemed to beckon. This time, however, I wore a desert-dweller's hat on my head and a vinyl bag full of curious implements at my side. Benjamin and I had planned in advance to meet up with our respective senior-thesis advisers. Upon our arrival, Benjamin made for the Religion Department, and I took the opportunity to prowl around for fond memories and typos. I thought it appropriate to ply my trade in the very place that had prodded me to leave behind the nine-to-five office life, if only once, and go out and do do something. something.

I'm pleased to report that, save for the single exception of a sign using tack-on letters that had no spare apostrophes available, every typo we battled on the Hanover Plain met its end. The town provided ideal typo-hunting ground, greeting me with a receptive heart or, if not that exactly, at least good humor. Main Street held few shops you'd recognize as national chains, and the friendly folks I found in these local businesses were exceptionally receptive. A candy shop featured a much sweeter experience than I'd had with the nonpareil seller in Albany; the girl behind the counter consented to my request to fix the spelling of "cocao," but only after first explaining to her little brother, who was helping her, why the change needed to be made. She printed a new label and let him find the difference. At a local sporting goods store, the owner became defensive when I pointed out the WOMEN'S WINTER HAT'S WOMEN'S WINTER HAT'S sign, starting to say that someone else had made the signs-and then he stopped himself, declaring that he needed to take responsibility for the error. He granted permission for the fix and even hastened to point out a sign, starting to say that someone else had made the signs-and then he stopped himself, declaring that he needed to take responsibility for the error. He granted permission for the fix and even hastened to point out a MEN'S WINTER HAT'S MEN'S WINTER HAT'S sign that I had missed, so that I could amend that one, too. sign that I had missed, so that I could amend that one, too.

I don't want to give the false impression that Benjamin slacked off while at his favorite Hanover restaurant. In fact, he introduced his professor to his newest hobby during lunch. Once you check the text around you with an eye to grammar and spelling, he explained, they leap out at you. By pointing to the chalkboard opposite their table, he immediately validated his claim. Therein lay a rendering of Guinness Guinness that seemed to lack its usual thickness ("Guiness"). Professor Susan Ackerman responded by noting that the that seemed to lack its usual thickness ("Guiness"). Professor Susan Ackerman responded by noting that the Zinfandel Zinfandel had turned "Zinfendel," smoothly bringing herself into our ranks. Benjamin brought me back to Molly's as soon as we reconnoitered, advising me to have my chalk at the ready. The bartender, well used to obnoxious Dartmouth kids pulling stunts and tricks in his domain, still readily consented to some quick fixes. Fortunately, whoever had originally chalked the sign used approximately the same colors that I had, so nothing stuck out too badly. We had a had turned "Zinfendel," smoothly bringing herself into our ranks. Benjamin brought me back to Molly's as soon as we reconnoitered, advising me to have my chalk at the ready. The bartender, well used to obnoxious Dartmouth kids pulling stunts and tricks in his domain, still readily consented to some quick fixes. Fortunately, whoever had originally chalked the sign used approximately the same colors that I had, so nothing stuck out too badly. We had a Cheers Cheers moment as wait staff and patrons alike-including one who'd seen us on the news-joined in on the fun, asking us about our journey and giving us heartily up-flung thumbs. moment as wait staff and patrons alike-including one who'd seen us on the news-joined in on the fun, asking us about our journey and giving us heartily up-flung thumbs.

We headed out to drinks with my own thesis adviser, Professor Ernie Hebert, who'd also taught Benjamin once. The specials sign outside the pub, Murphy's, listed a curious element in one of its hors d'oeuvres. Mmm ..."coconunut". I wondered if it came with any Hawiian Island Sauce, though perhaps the extra syllable was enough to ensure extra flavor. Benjamin and I shared the tale of our journey with Ernie. As an English teacher, he could appreciate the TEAL mission, but he was amazed that we had survived a near-entire circuit around the country without getting our noses punched inside out. A professor to the last, even as we relaxed and knocked back beers, he pressed us for answers about what we'd learned from our travails, backing up Benjamin's Chicago a.s.sertion that we were in it for us now, for the experience more than for the typo correcting. I appreciated his ability to dive right into a deeper discussion of the mission, even as I faltered in my attempt to draw satisfying conclusions about what we'd seen and done. After the drinks, Benjamin and I stood around for an extra moment outside, long enough to make a quick swipe (Benjamin taking out most of the second n n and the and the ut ut after it) and slice (my own strike of the chalk against the board, converting the left side of the decimated after it) and slice (my own strike of the chalk against the board, converting the left side of the decimated n n into a into a t t).

We drove south that night to Manchester and my mother, Benjamin blasting his new Filter alb.u.m to keep us awake. Reflecting on the "coconunut" correction after a day of such great responses, I made a decision, one that may well resound throughout the future of the League. "Tomorrow in Manchester, let's not do any stealth corrections."

"Yeah?"

"I've been around the country, and now I'm going to be back in the town where I grew up," I shouted above the music. "I shouldn't have to sneak around-I'm a native son!"

"I don't know that everyone's going to see it quite that way," Benjamin hollered back.

"That's okay. I ... want to try it this way."

He nodded. "That's fair."

The pot I'd stirred in Albany would soon begin to foam over. By dealing directly with the people closest to the typo, I invited the citizens of Manchester to reveal themselves to me. I'd realize eventually that I could have done this with anything-say, carrying around jars of pickles, asking people to taste-test. In calling for a day without stealth, I'd effectively called for interactions of all manner and degree, and Manchester delivered more than I ever could have antic.i.p.ated.

It all came down to Elm Street, the heart of Manchester's once-and-future downtown. For the largest city in New Hampshire, with more than a hundred thousand people, old Manch Vegas (as certain wags referred to it) possessed a conspicuous lack of character. Elm was the only place where you could find a few independent businesses huddling together for shelter from the chains. The city had been making more of an effort in recent years to spruce up the downtown area, and Elm Street did boast a few newer restaurants and bars, but n.o.body shopped shopped there. Why deal with the spa.r.s.e parking and spa.r.s.er selection of wares when you could head over to the mall or the Walmart on South Willow? A couple of blocks west, the red behemoths of former industry sulked over the Merrimack River on both banks. Some parts of the old cotton and locomotive mill buildings had found a second life as restaurant or condo s.p.a.ce, but n.o.body had figured out how to use the considerable real estate to its fullest advantage. there. Why deal with the spa.r.s.e parking and spa.r.s.er selection of wares when you could head over to the mall or the Walmart on South Willow? A couple of blocks west, the red behemoths of former industry sulked over the Merrimack River on both banks. Some parts of the old cotton and locomotive mill buildings had found a second life as restaurant or condo s.p.a.ce, but n.o.body had figured out how to use the considerable real estate to its fullest advantage.

We parked on Elm outside a used bookstore, which drew Benjamin in like an iron bee to a neodymium honeypot. I picked up the book Red Mars Red Mars, deciding not to wait for the copy that Benjamin had offered to lend me. He called me over to the back run, where he'd caught not only a cla.s.sic apostrophe for a plural (ALL AUDIO'S 25% 25% OFF OFF), but a new category of fiction: COMTEMPORARY COMTEMPORARY. I could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to ask, "Are you sure sure about this no-stealth-correction thing?" These errors were at the opposite corner of the store from the register, where the only clerk in the store was ringing someone up. We were well concealed by overstuffed bookcases. How easy these could be to right. I shook my head no. about this no-stealth-correction thing?" These errors were at the opposite corner of the store from the register, where the only clerk in the store was ringing someone up. We were well concealed by overstuffed bookcases. How easy these could be to right. I shook my head no.

"Hear me out. I know we're a solid twenty-five corrections over fifty percent, but that" that"-and here he pointed to COMTEMPORARY COMTEMPORARY, which he must have spotted second-"is just wrong."

"Then I hope this bookstore cares as much as we do about words." I considered other bookstores we'd examined across the country, realizing how few of them had yielded typos. I'd made them a stop in nearly every major city. I could remember only Galveston's bookstore typos now, and that place had been one of our best responses. I approached the counter, and the woman asked if I was ready to check out. I looked at Red Mars Red Mars in my hand-I was, wasn't I? After we did that, I asked about the signs. in my hand-I was, wasn't I? After we did that, I asked about the signs.

"Oh, we had a volunteer who made those signs." Ahh, right. Volunteers are apparently held to a different standard. It was the Cartoon Art Museum all over again. If you're getting paid, you ought to be professional, but what can they do to you when you're a volunteer? If they'd written "maid by valunteeerz" on the signs, I could have saved myself the trouble of asking. I don't know if the employee could read these thoughts from my face, but she must have read something (though clearly not the signs in her store). She added another reason not to bother: "They've been up for a long time and n.o.body seems to have noticed the mistake."

Seems, Madam! nay, it is; I know not "seems."