I Am a Human Comma

I love StumbleUpon. While it turns up a lot of inane (though still sometimes funny) gobbledygook, nearly just as often I come across something that makes me think. Robert J. Samuelson’s Newsweek article, “The Sad Fate of the Comma,” was one such thing. While punctuation articles don’t normally intrigue me–anyone who knows me and my writing knows that my understanding of grammar is more practical than theoretical–this one caught my eye because it was not only engaging and well-written, but a treatise on modern life. About the disappearance of the comma from today’s writing Samuelson said:

If all this involved only grammar, I might let it lie. But the comma’s sad fate is, I think, a metaphor for something larger: how we deal with the frantic, can’t-wait-a-minute nature of modern life. The comma is, after all, a small sign that flashes PAUSE. It tells the reader to slow down, think a bit, and then move on. We don’t have time for that. No pauses allowed. In this sense, the comma’s fading popularity is also social commentary.

Talk about the hectic pace of American life reminds me of a little anecdote where an American businessman in Mexico meets a native fisherman who’s bringing in his small tuna catch for the day. The American asks the man why he doesn’t spend more time on the water catching more fish. After all, what on earth could he possibly be doing with all his extra time? The Mexican tells him that he sleeps in late, fishes a little, plays with his children, takes a siesta with his wife, and then spends the evenings sipping wine and playing guitar with his amigos. The American scoffs and advises him that if he’d just put in more hours catching fish he could cut out the middleman, sell directly to the processor, and eventually even open his own cannery where he would control the product, the processing, and the distribution. “You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village,” he says, “and move to Mexico City, then Los Angeles, and eventually New York City where you would run your expanding enterprise.”

“How long would this take, senor?” asks the fisherman.

“Oh, 15 or 20 years,” says the businessman. “But that’s not the best part! When the time is right you announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions!”

“Millions?” says the wide-eyed Mexican. “But then what, senor?”

“Then,” says the businessman, “You could retire to a coastal fishing village where you could sleep in late, fish a little, play with your grandchildren, take a siesta with your wife, and spend the evenings sipping wine and playing guitar with your friends.”

I think the pace of my own life is probably just right. I do sleep in late, and I’ve been known to take a siesta now and then. Most of the time I let my body’s natural rhythm control when I wake up and when I go to bed. But I’ve certainly been known to multitask (it’s the American way, after all), and I’ve certainly felt the seductive pull, the suction created by the frenetic whirlwind pace so many Americans embrace. I feel guilt-ridden and ashamed because I’m not doing a million different things at once. On top of my work–on top of doing a job that I love, I might add–I’m not volunteering and joining and running frantically to and fro with a cell phone pressed to my ear and a laptop strapped over my shoulder. What must I be missing!

But I’ve taught myself to be what most Americans would probably consider chronically lazy. I’m a slacker, folks, and I make no apologies. (Well, yes I do. And excuses, too. But not today; not here.) I make a decent income as a writer while my husband contributes the bulk of our family income through his job as an IT manager. If needs be, I could survive on my income without the added bonus of his (which is easily twice what I make). I’d have to simplify…a lot. Still, I could probably do it. And I wouldn’t mind it, either.

Not that I’m considering ditching my husband any time soon.

So there you have it, folks–I’m a human comma. I’m a pause that beckons, “Hey, slow down a moment; stop and think.” And you’ll likely never see me vow to do more and make my life any busier than it is. I want to live easy and enjoy my husband, kids, dogs and siestas right now. Care to join my little society of lazy Americans? Together we can utterly fail at keeping up with the feverish pace of the American lifestyle.