I don’t know what’s come over me lately. I’m sixty-two years old and just started using the “s” word. You know the one that is four letters long and ends in t? I mean that word. I never use it when anyone’s around, and every time it slips out of my mouth, I’m appalled, though I have to tell you I’m less and less appalled the more I say it. I drop an egg on the floor. “S..t!” My pita pocket splits and all the filling falls out. “S..t!” I’m shocked that it flows so easily out of my mouth.
Growing up, I never heard that language used in our house. I know that’s hard to say in many households today, but I guarantee it was not uttered in our home and would not have been tolerated if it had. My mother said it was a sign of ignorance; only people who didn’t have a good vocabulary resorted to speaking such trash. Now here I am letting that word trip so lightly off my tongue. The first time it came out, I thought it was just a fluke, but it’s been rearing its ugly head quite often lately. I guess I need to brush up on my vocabulary.
I remember when my brother and I were about 12 and 10, we caught my grandmother when she let that word slip. “I said shoot! I said shoot!” she tried to convince us, but we heard her quite clearly. We actually thought it was pretty funny.
I maintain that this is all the result of years and years of suppression. One can only be good for so long.