Smug and Superior

Once upon a time, there was a huge offense perpetrated against lovers of literature everywhere. I was walking through the kitchen at Fairwood, back in the day, and glanced over at the white board to see what illuminating quote had been placed there this time. The board read:

"To thine own self be true." -- Oprah

OPRAH?!?! Try Shakespeare.

How dreadful that some icon of popular culture would take a line straight out of Hamlet (it's from Polonius' speech to his son) and twist it to mean some liberal, feel-good "be true to yourself" catch phrase. Besides, when Polonius was saying this, he meant look out for number one. He was giving pragmatic, if not selfish, advice. Oprah, forsooth!

Something similar happened recently. Melissa and I were trying to remember who said "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." We decided, as is our usual m.o., to google it. Up it popped as a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt. I don't think so. I scrolled down farther and sure enough, it was Milton. Another hero of literary history being robbed of his right by some lesser mortal. Of course, Eleanor Roosevelt seems like a great woman and all, but still...

All of this brings to mind a book Dad was reading a year or so ago. It was an adventure story, part of which took place in Jerusalem! He was reading along about this guy in his getaway car in the Old City. He was a little skeptical, but decided it was possible to have a car in the particular place described in the book. But then he read as the car turned and went down the street to exit through the Damascus gate. At that point Dad was unable to suspend reality any longer. The Damascus gate?! Clearly the author had never been there, and was basing his descriptions on some street map. You see, street maps don't show the fact that that street, leading out the Damascus gate, is impossible for cars to maneuver, due to the fact that it is a series of steps! And don't forget the masses of people and carts and goods for sale (that was the low point of my Israel experience - I've never been so glad to get out into an open space...).

Dad was telling me about this, and I was laughing about it, and commenting about how cool it was that we knew first-hand that this author was out in left field somewhere.

Dad understood, and suggested that perhaps the words I was looking for to describe my feelings were "smug and superior."