Humor Laugh & Learn with Virginia Cornell

To my friends and readers:

For a decade, I wrote columns for the Winter Park Manifest, then for the Carpinteria Herald, Montecito Life and Goleta Sun. Through no fault of my own, the latter three newspapers succumbed to the last big California recession. At that time I turned my thoughts to writing and publishing the books that appear on this website. Now I’ve grown cranky with the responsibility of writing BIG BOOKS. So I have decided to return to the only kind of writing that I really love – the personal essay. So I invite you to return to our website every Thursday, to share a thought or two, to respond to me personally if you’ve a notion, then perhaps to e-mail them to friends.

Quantifying the experience

Before I married an engineer I thought we would communicate in a common language - English. My student life in liberal arts taught me to make educated subjective judgments.

But my husband worked all of his life in the aerospace industry as a mechanical engineer. If you can't measure it - it doesn't exist. Furthermore, engineers don't care much for evocative language, but they do care about how they phrase things.

For example, there was the time that we brought our half-grown mutt home from the pound and named her Lola. Very soon we observed her in the act of defecation on the front lawn. I was madly searching for a euphemism, such as: "I believe our dog is relieving herself."

Matter of factly the husband observed, "We have a large bore dog!"

One evening, as we were watching TV, Lola was fast asleep on her pad. We heard a popping sound followed by a distinct aroma. As I groped for the right words; my husband said: "Her pressure valve just cracked," as if that explained everything. And so it did.

Engineers just love maps. My husband prefers navigation to driving. This is a good arrangement because most maps make about as much sense to me upside down as they do rightside up. But there's a downside to his focus.

"Hey, did you see that antelope?" I exclaimed as we drove through Chino Valley in Arizona. He missed it. Sometimes he gets so enthralled with a map that he forgets to look up and see the scenery. But I'm mighty glad to have him in the city. When we start out on foot he has figured where to go and with dead reckoning leads us through neighborhoods and alleys toward our goal.

The existential question of where he fits in the scheme of things never occurs to him. But boy, oh boy, did he ever get excited when he first learned about Global Positioning technology - GPS. He's suspicious of gadgets, but the idea of knowing - absolutely for sure - where he stood in the universe was more than he could resist.

If I comment, "I'm really suffering because it is so hot today," he will shoot back "Eighty-five degrees."

You see what I mean? He likes to quantify the experience.

I have discovered that engineers take standard pleasantries too literally. Take the simple phrase, "How are you?"

Most people understand this is uttered as standard social oil to grease the opening of conversation, not because the asker really wants to know how the askee truly feels. What ensues is generally, "Fine, thank you."

But engineers are serious people; accuracy is paramount. Why would you ask a silly question if you don't want it answered?

It was a red-lettered day when I brought home an easy-to-read battery-operated oral fever thermometer that didn't have to be shaken down every time it was used. When I asked, "How do you feel?" he shot back, "99.7" At first he was so enthralled with the thing that he made a chart to keep track of his recovery.

But the thrill of the thermomenter was topped by the arrival of a gizmo for taking blood-pressure. At last, he had a definitive answer to "How are you?"

"135 over 78," thank you.

He's just fine. Consider the experience has been quantified.

This copyrighted column is the intellectual property of Virginia Cornell.
For permission to reproduce it in part or in whole please contact: vcornell@manifestpub.com. Inquiries from newspapers and newsletters are welcomed.