Cursing

“Goodness gracious great balls of fire,” I exclaimed the other day.

Ernie looked up from his puzzle, puzzled by my words.  “What did you just say,” he asked?

“You heard me right,” I said. “Goodness gracious great balls of fire.”

He said, “Seriously? Who says that anymore?”

“Well, clearly, I do.  I am making an effort to curse less, “ I offered by way of explanation.

Cursing.  There was a time when cursing did not come easy for me.  I grew up in a non-cursing household.  I don’t think I have ever heard either of my parents utter a single curse word.  Unless you count Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—which I will come back to in a minute.

Somewhere, sometime in the middle school years, the plethora of curse words were made known to me.  Ostensibly from kids who did grow up in cursing households, I assumed.  There’s a good Catholic education for you.  Reading, writing, arithmetic, religion, and cursing.

But though the words were made known to me, I was in no way comfortable saying them.  In fact, if I even tried to utter them, it felt like an actual physical issue or impediment that prevented the words from leaving my mouth.  I just couldn’t do it.

By the time I got to high-school, I was intimidated by and somewhat in awe of some of the girls who dropped the fbomb like it was as easy as saying good morning, how are you today. 

But it was in high-school, in religion class of all things, where Father Thiers decided to give us an education on cursing in terms of what counted as a sin and what was just crude, rude, and uncouth.

“Listen,” he started, “you can say damn, shit, even the fbomb.  Saying these words are not a sin.  You don’t need to confess them as such when you are in confession.  However, do know that saying these words is indicative of a gutter mouth, and just isn’t the classiest of things you can say.  Meanwhile, what is a sin, is taking the Lord’s name in vain.  So do not put God in front of damn.  That would be a sin and yes, you should include that in your confessional.”

With that distinction now clearly in my mind, the non-sin curse words started to seem more approachable to me.  At least I wasn’t going to hell if I happened to drop the fbomb.  But none of it came naturally to me and I still stuck with gosh, darn, and shoot.  If I was particularly frustrated, a gosh darn it all would certainly be one of my go-to’s.

This was even the case through college.  So what was the turning point?

The workplace.  Entering the frustration inducing place of corporate America unleashed all my years of unspoken curse words.  It didn’t take long in that environment for years of unspoken curse words to spew forth from my mouth.  And. It. Felt. Great.  I couldn’t believe all that I had been missing all those years.

Your crazy client just unleash a boat load of misery on you?  Well, eff that! Your boss make a ridiculous demand for something they need right away which means you have to work over the weekend? Well, eff that!

My cursing curve was through the roof.  I was still being careful to not take the Lord’s name in vain.  I was dwelling in the gutter mouth/not classy territory, but keeping clear of the going to hell /sin territory.

I wasn’t alone in my work place cursing.  One of my besties at work, who sat across from me in our quad, cursed too (actually I think everyone at work cursed lol).  One day, we decided we wanted to clean up our act.  We decided to have a curse jar.  Every time one of us cursed, we would put a quarter in the jar.  And as we sat across from each other, it was easy to keep each other honest.  That jar filled up very fast and was not an effective tool at keeping us from cursing.  We took the money and went to Panera for lunch.

My next approach was to give up cursing for Lent.  When I told a coworker I was doing this, she responded with, “Damn, why the hell would you do that? What the f*&^k? Let it rip, I say.  You gotta let that shit out.”

I think I did that for one, maybe two Lents.  She was effing right.

But for all the workplace cursing, I never cursed at home.  Nor did Ernie.  I was raised in a non-cursing home, and I would raise my kids likewise.

Which is why, when I heard my oldest child, who was a teenager at that point, utter the f-word, I thought I’d faint.  She dropped it like it was nobody’s business, just business as usual. It took me until I was 22 before I could even say that word, and here she was at 15 having no problem with it. 

I didn’t say anything.  I had happened to pass by her room when I heard her say it and she never said it in our presence.  I totally went with the “pretend you didn’t hear it, as long as she doesn’t say at the dinner table, we’re good” approach.

Which brings me to present day.  We are retirees and empty nesters.  On the one hand, work environment is no longer a factor, but so too, no kids are in the house.  Two competing/opposing forces in the curse or no curse decision.

I have landed in the try to curse less zone.  Hence, Goodness Gracious Great Balls of Fire.  Also any or all of the following: Holy Moly, Geeze Louise, Oh Man, and of course my old standbys, Gosh, Darn, Dagnabbit, Dang.

Once in a while, if the situation calls for it and I cannot help myself, I will release a Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.  I am not really clear if this one is taking the Lord’s name in vain or not.  I am not saying his full name, Jesus Christ.  Plus, the inclusion of Mary and Joseph, while holy, are not God, seems to lessen or remove it from the Do Not Take the Lord’s Name in Vain law.

Goodness Gracious Great Balls of Fire.  I’ll take my chances on that one I guess.  There’s always the confessional if need be.  Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been 20 years since my last confession…