First published at tumblr Proof (v.)
My grandmother, may she rest in peace, was an impressive woman.
She taught English as a second language to Iranian refugees, and as a first language to kids who can’t read good.
She always pronounced the “wh” in “white”, she air-conducted Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture while driving… and our favourite game was The Apostrophe Man Strikes Again. It took the place of Eye Spy on long road trips, and involved gleeful squeals of “The Apostrophe Man Strikes Again!” at the first sign of misplaced punctuation. Rural petrol stations and roadside stalls provided us with rich pickings.
So the sub-editor’s eye is inherited. Many thanks, dear Mamie.