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We set up my author's table at the Westmoreland Arts & Heritage Festival and spent three days selling the children's books I wrote. Since they're humor novels set on a farm, we also passed out animal stickers to any kids who wanted them.
(Sometimes, the "kids" looked to be 60 or 70 years old. We gave them stickers, anyway. We don't card people who want to wear farm animal stickers.)
This may surprise you, but not everyone wanted to wear a pig, chicken or cow. They informed us of this decision with the same two words:
"I'm good."
For three days, we heard that phrase. I'm good.
"It's so wonderful to hear that you're well," my wife replied to one such linguist. "But do you want a sticker?"
The good person gave her a look that indicated, "Don't you understand English?"
Her return gaze implied, "Certainly. Do you speak any?"
He didn't. Because he was good.
"I'm good." We grew weary of the phrase (mainly because the phrase I wanted to hear repeatedly was, "I want to buy two copies each of all three books in your series." Then I'd be good).
Certainly, I was aware of the phrase, "I'm good." It dates back to at least the 1950s. Its popularity exploded over the last decade. But this is the summer I believe it finally steamrolled out of existence any final traces of the words I was taught: "No, thank you."
"No, thank you." Firm. Clear. Polite.
Obviously, it had to go. It wasn't good. And goodness knows, we're all about good. Especially if we can make our meanings good and confusing.
Good grief, Charlie Brown, take a good look at what we say and what we mean:
It's all good. (You mucked it up, you moron. Now I have to fix it.)
It looks good on paper. (This loony idea has no chance of working.)
All in good time. (I'll do it when I'm good and ready.)
When I'm good and ready. (Yeah, right, like that's ever going to happen.)
You have to take the good with the bad. (You are making my life miserable.)
He's trying to get on her good side. (She's impossible to deal with, but the knucklehead hasn't given up yet.)
She's getting rid of him for good. (He's horrible.)
For good measure. (She changed her phone number to make sure he never calls her again.)
I'm good. (I sure don't mean I'm doing well. Get outta my face.)
What good are these phrases if they don't say what we mean?
I suppose my generation didn't do much better. When we wanted to say we were feeling good, we didn't settle on, "I am doing well, and you?"
Nope. We said things like cool, groovy, far out, excellent and outrageous.
And then there's bad. Somewhere along the way, "bad" came to mean "good." Especially if said like a farm animal: "Man, that is baa-aa-aa-dd."
Why say what we mean? Is being direct bad? By "bad," I don't mean bad like "That is awesome!" but bad like not all right, as in, not in an acceptable manner, which is a bad way to be, by which I mean not good, the kind of good that … wait, where was I?
On second thought, just go with it. I'm good.
— Get on Cole's good side at burtseyeview@tribtoday.com or on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook. It's good. Or possibly bad. We're good with that.