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THE DAILY ASTORIAN • THURSDAY, DECEMBER 21, 2017
editor@dailyastorian.com
KARI BORGEN
Publisher
JIM VAN NOSTRAND
Editor
Founded in 1873
JEREMY FELDMAN
Circulation Manager
DEBRA BLOOM
Business Manager
JOHN D. BRUIJN
Production Manager
CARL EARL
Systems Manager
OUR VIEW
It’s time for new ideas for tsunami survival
I
t’s good that the city of Long Beach
the way of preparations that might save
acknowledged reality and stepped
lives in something less than a full-scale,
away from a flawed plan to build
worst-case disaster. However, it would
what amounted to a small hill for tsu-
be bad to spend millions on a structure
nami evacuation. At a cost of $4 million
that provides a false sense of security
and a height of 32 feet,
and turns into a death
the city’s concrete berm
trap.
“Most people
was too expensive and
Pacific Northwest
too short.
coastal
residents
survive tsunamis.
It would have been
shouldn’t throw up our
Put to the test,
even better if Long
hands in despair and
Beach had changed
do nothing.
they race for
course in March 2016,
For example:
safe ground,
when Dr. Christopher
• Within a couple
scramble
up
trees
Sabine, director
of decades, most local
of NOAA Pacific
schools can and should
or manage to ride
Marine Environmental
be either relocated
debris
to
safety.
Laboratories in Seattle,
to high ground — as
told local officials a
Seaside is doing — or
Smart planning,
Cascadia Subduction
built strong enough
perhaps far
Zone quake is predicted
and tall enough to pro-
to produce an initial tsu- beyond anything
vide vertical evac-
nami up to 58 feet tall.
uation for everyone
mentioned here,
U.S. Maria Cantwell,
within a 15-minute
D-Washington, attended can maximize
running radius. This
the meeting where
is essentially what has
these chances.”
Sabine spoke and
been done in Westport,
immediately drew a par-
Washington.
• Evacuation paths to high ground
allel with Japan, where defense struc-
might be feasible in most coastal com-
tures were under-engineered and proved
munities, if constructed to survive the
futile against a tsunami in March 2011,
violent earthquake that will trigger a tsu-
resulting in the Fukushima nuclear
nami. And in the meantime, such paths
disaster.
would be valuable recreational assets.
A case can be made for not allow-
• Washington’s Quileute Tribe is
ing pursuit of a perfect answer get in
Crews rebuild and add resiliency preparations after the 2011 tsunami in Japan.
relocating its main village to a safer
place. Though obviously impracti-
cal in the short term for the much more
densely coastal towns in the vicinity of
the Columbia River, it may be many
decades before the next mega-tsunami
strikes. A deliberate effort to locate
new subdivisions on safer ground —
like the one already platted at Ilwaco’s
Discovery Heights — can greatly miti-
gate loss of life.
Finally, it bears remembering that
most people survive tsunamis. Put to the
test, they race for safe ground, scram-
ble up trees or manage to ride debris
to safety. Smart planning, perhaps far
beyond anything mentioned here, can
maximize these chances.
grotesque), Biros (ball-point pens, a brand
name), woollies (sweaters) and plimpsoles
(sneakers). Local now meant a union group,
not a favored pub (bar/tavern). Kip (sleep)
and loo (restroom) went out the window;
cack-handed became all thumbs.
Gardens become yards, green thumbs turn
into green fingers, skiving off is called gold-
bricking, and men’s braces are rather amus-
ingly called suspenders, the latter the name
for alluring underwear items worn by English
ladies to hold up their nylon stockings.
But nuance lurked in that dusty news-
room; it would clobber my bonce (head)
when least expected. In my native land,
scheme is interchangeable with program or
project. It is a totally neutral word with no
negative connotations that someone is trying
to con, cheat or defraud. I had to obliterate
that pejorative from my vocabulary after
inadvertently insulting the city public works
director’s pet project.
I mean gas. Like potato crisps (chips are
fried with fish), petrol is one of my hold-out
words. The first house I owned in Southwest
Washington was heated with gas (the vapor),
so I have always preferred to call heating gas
“gas” and car gas “petrol.”
Several parts of my car/automobile retain
British labels. I comprehend hood and trunk,
but bonnet and boot seem more natural.
Mechanics understand, but mention of the
accelerator pedal draws blank stares; so, too,
the gear lever, which I now call the stick shift.
GUEST COLUMN
A symphony of
words resonates
in the New World
scar Wilde had it right.
He reportedly quipped that the
English “have really everything in
common with America . . . except, of course,
language.”
I am frequently reminded that he had a
point. As a transplanted Briton, I still have
communication issues. Sometimes I just
cannot make myself understood.
When, at 23, I readied to flee the despon-
dency caused by Margaret Thatcher’s ascen-
sion and settle in the New World, I realized I
would need help assimilating into the Western
states. I bought a British-American Language
Dictionary and toted it in
my hand luggage that day I
touched down at Sea-Tac in
1980.
My linguistic adventure
began when I married
my American sweetie
Patrick
and landed my first job
Webb
in Camas, Washington.
Working as editor of a
weekly newspaper was a perfect opportunity
for a first-generation immigrant to absorb the
finer elements of American society and your
post-colonial ways right away (“from the
git-go,” as my neighbors said).
My new home was a mill town, coinciden-
tally twinned with Wauna, and then owned
by Crown Zellerbach. I learned to pronounce
Our Esteemed Benefactor as “Crown Zee,”
having been corrected when I called it
“Crown Zed.”
I never drink and drive, because that’s
never a good idea, but also because I can just
visualize myself being pulled over by the
Peelers and ordered to recite the alphabet to
demonstrate my sobriety. After 25 correct
letters, I would reach the final one and inev-
itably forget where I was. Jail, ridicule and
more expensive car insurance would follow.
O
Inadvertent insults
At the newspaper, I set about
Americanizing my stories so readers could
understand. The owners had hired an
Irishman a couple of editors before me, so I
followed in his beloved footsteps, embracing
drive-up banks and oddities like Groundhog
Day. Folks made allowances (“cut me some
slack”?).
Humour became humor. Favour became
favor. Programme became program.
Transport became transportation. Those were
easy, although that last unnecessary “-ation”
WEBB’S BRITISH-
AMERICAN DICTIONARY
British — American
Letter Z (pronounced “zed”) — “zee”
rozzers, Peelers, Old Bill — cops, fuzz
muggins — sucker
grotty — unpleasant
Biro — ball-point pen
woolly — sweater
plimpsoles — sneakers
local (favorite pub) — local (union group)
kip — sleep
loo — rest room
cack-handed — all thumbs.
garden — yard
green thumb — green fingers
skiving off — goldbricking
braces — suspenders
bonce — head
scheme (neutral project) — scheme (cor-
rupt project)
ground floor — first floor
first floor — second floor
diagonally opposite — kitty-corner (various
spellings)
crisps — chips
chips — French fries
petrol — gas
gas — gas
bonnet — hood
boot — trunk
accelerator — gas pedal
gear lever — stick shift
bloke — guy
Yanks (all Americans) — Yankees (specifi-
cally Northeast Americans)
settee — Davenport
still causes me to think “ugh!” Calling blokes
by their last names instead of Mr. Smith on
second reference was easy, though it sounded
rather blunt for ladies. I embraced Associated
Press style for state abbreviations, military
ranks and a consistent manner to write dates,
and will never unlearn those.
I knew I was saying goodbye to muggins
(a sucker), grotty (unpleasant, rooted in
Bonnet and boot?
All this helps proves Oscar Wilde was
indeed hunky dory, and not at all barmy. In
Great Britain, politicians stand for office;
here they run. British felons protest their
innocence, while here they protest their con-
victions. In London hotels, the ground floor is
called the ground floor, which means the first
floor is the second floor. Confused?
Tabling a motion in England means delay-
ing discussion, the exact opposite of here. Try
refereeing sports, where “a foul on Michael
Jordan” means he committed the foul and
wasn’t the victim. Missing from my trusty
dictionary, however, was my late mother-in-
law’s favorite slang word, kitty-corner. It took
ages for me to realize that meant diagonally
opposite.
In Great Britain, regular is the euphemism
my Mum reserves for mention of bowel
movements. Here it refers to myriad stuff,
like Coca Cola, and even petrol, by which
Corrupted by the Yanks
When I write “blokes,” I mean “guys.” On
one visit before I emigrated, I recall shopping
with my American host near Boston’s Faneuil
Hall. He bantered with two attractive female
market traders, then inexplicably asked,
“Do you guys have any mushrooms?” Four
decades later, I use this gender-ignoring
plural on trips to England, having adopted it
as an affectation. Family members say I have
been “corrupted by the Yanks.”
Yanks, of course, is a not-always-playful
pejorative in England, just as Yankee is in the
South here, though Britons mean all 360 mil-
lion, not merely those inhabiting the original
Northern states.
Because this is a family newspaper, I
cannot mention the many British words to
describe bathroom functions, advanced cud-
dling maneuvers, or the naughty bits of gen-
tlemen and ladies. You Americans miss out
on some doozies to describe your floozies.
The classic American phrase that appears
in these dictionaries is “comfort station,”
which gives Britons cause for chortling
when American euphemisms are rolled out.
However, I can honestly say that in my trav-
els in 35 states, I have never found one!
North Coast writer Patrick Webb was born
in England but has spent more than half of his
life in the United States. He is the retired man-
aging editor of The Daily Astorian.