Category Archives: Personal

Jehoshaphat

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One of my daily emails comes from Oxford University Press, publisher of a grammar reference work called Garner’s Modern American Usage. Their tip of the day recently surprised me, discussing the proper spelling (and pronunciation) of a name from the Bible. Here’s the entry —

Garner’s Usage Tip of the Day: Jehoshaphat.

“Jehoshaphat,” the name of a king of Judah mentioned in the Old Testament, is often misspelled “Jehosophat” ….

The name is properly pronounced /ji-HAHSH-uh-fat/. The mispronunciation /ji-HOH-suh-fat/, popularized in Yosemite Sam’s habitual interjection (“Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!”) in the Bugs Bunny cartoons, is based on an erroneous reading of the word (ignoring the “-sh-“), coupled perhaps with the influence of Jehovah (/ji-HOH-vuh/). (Yosemite Sam seems never to hit the books.) But the phrase became so ubiquitous that the interjection would call undue attention to itself if pronounced in any way other than Yosemite’s. Not many people today use the phrase.

The reference never answers the real question: why exclaim that Jehoshapaht was jumping??

pdb

Bat Slayer!

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Here’s one of the more interesting accounts, from my week with the Scouts at Camp Wakpominee.

Early one morning, while the troops assembled awaiting the morning flag raising, I walked over to the dining hall for my first mug of coffee. One of the staff was sending all the table-setters, etc, out of the hall, and refusing admittance to everyone. “What’s up?” I asked, hoping to still get to my coffee. There were some BATS in the dining hall, which meant no scouts could enter. “Let me in,” I said. “I know how to deal with bats.” So they let me in.

Kitchen staffers were running aorund the hall with brooms in the air, swinging wildly at 3-4 large brown bats. Quickly I explained how, back in college, I used to deal with bats in the dorms, and the weapon of choice was not a broom but a tennis racquet! A minute later they put one in my hands, and I was after the bats myself. The guys with the brooms tried to direct the bats out one of the doors or windows — or to me.

Eventually, one flew out a door, one bat was pinned against a window screen, and the last one made the mistake of flying within reach of my racquet. With a large arc, as if hitting a serve, I knocked the bat from above my head towards the fireplace, 20 yards away. He landed there unconscious. The sound of the bat hitting the sweet-spot of the racquet was followed by a cheer; the last bat was gone, and breakfast could be served.

The rest of the week at camp, while dealing with the buckets of rain, I campaigned for the nickname “bat slayer” but it didn’t seem to stick.

…more tales to follow….
pdb