Let’s Face it; English is a crazy language.
There is no egg in eggplant, ham in hamburger, neither apple nor pine in
pineapples. English muffins weren’t invented in England or French fries in
France! Sweetmeats are candies, while sweetbreads, which aren’t sweet, are
meat.
English has many paradoxes: we find that quicksand can work slowly,
boxing rings are square, and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a
pig!
And why is it that writers write, but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t
groce, and hammers don’t ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn’t
the plural of booth beeth? One goose, two geese – so why not one moose, two
meese?
If teachers taught, why don’t preacher’s praught? If a vegetarian eats
vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?
In what other language do people recite at a play, and play at a recital?
Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that
smell? Park on driveways and drive on parkways? How can a slim chance and a
fat chance mean the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? How
can overlook and oversee be opposites while quite a lot and quite a few are
alike?
Have you ever noticed that we talk about certain things only when they
are absent? Have you ever seen a horseful carriage or a strapful gown? Met a
sung hero or experienced requited love? Have you ever met someone who was
combobulated, gruntled, ruly, or peccable? And where are all those people
who are spring chickens and who would actually hurt a fly?
You have to marvel at the uniqueness of a language in which your house
can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out,
and in which an alarm goes off by going on.
And when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when I wind up this essay, I
end it!