A Non-word with a purpose

I'm not a prude. I enjoy an off-color joke now and then; I'm known to utter a four-letter word; I don't blush when others go beyond my level.

However, I have to say that I'm taken aback by the use of profanity in settings where it is, in my mind, inappropriate. There is no list of those places. They become identifiable when you are in the midst of them. You know it's inappropriate, and so do others in the group. The energy in the room changes. The volume of speaking voices changes. Eye contact with the "speaker" diminishes, sometimes out of embarrassment for the speaker.

I tried using profanity as a literary tool when I was writing a novel. My intent was to be as realistic about the language of the era and practice of expression among people of that age and culture as I could. It failed miserably. When I go back and read the book (seldom) I'm embarrassed and properly self-chastised. It feels plastic and unprofessional. I guess I'll never be a writer of graphic novels.

When I was in undergraduate school my basketball coach was a great guy. He was a gentleman and people respected him for that. Frank was kind of "old fashioned" in his coaching and teaching methods, which included respect for his players. I never saw him "chew out" a player in front of the team or in front of a crowd. And I never heard him utter a word of profanity.

That was pretty unusual in the world of athletics. He would cringe when a player swore, but he never chastised them. He taught by example.

However, Frank had a phrase he would utter when he was frustrated: "Soufra mutah zee." We all tried to find out what language he was speaking, but it turned out that it was a nonsense phrase; to the best of our knowledge, it wasn't a real word. At first we laughed whenever he said it, but soon we began mimicking him, and it became part of our own vocabulary.

To this day it is a word/phrase that comes from my mouth fairly easily, without thought. Each time I use it I think of Frank Pollard, who died a number of years ago. His memory is alive in me at times of frustration, turning them into tolerable moments, allowing me to move on. He's still coaching.