James Fallows is a national correspondent for The Atlantic and has written for the magazine since the late 1970s. He has reported extensively from outside the United States and once worked as President Carter's chief speechwriter. His latest book is China Airborne.
James Fallows is based in Washington as a national correspondent for The Atlantic. He has worked for the magazine for nearly 30 years and in that time has also lived in Seattle, Berkeley, Austin, Tokyo, Kuala Lumpur, Shanghai, and Beijing. He was raised in Redlands, California, received his undergraduate degree in American history and literature from Harvard, and received a graduate degree in economics from Oxford as a Rhodes scholar. In addition to working for The Atlantic, he has spent two years as chief White House speechwriter for Jimmy Carter, two years as the editor of US News & World Report, and six months as a program designer at Microsoft. He is an instrument-rated private pilot. He is also now the chair in U.S. media at the U.S. Studies Centre at the University of Sydney, in Australia.
Fallows has been a finalist for the National Magazine Award five times and has won once; he has also won the American Book Award for nonfiction and a N.Y. Emmy award for the documentary series Doing Business in China. He was the founding chairman of the New America Foundation. His recent books Blind Into Baghdad (2006) and Postcards From Tomorrow Square (2009) are based on his writings for The Atlantic. His latest book is China Airborne. He is married to Deborah Fallows, author of the recent book Dreaming in Chinese. They have two married sons.
Fallows welcomes and frequently quotes from reader mail sent via the "Email" button below. Unless you specify otherwise, we consider any incoming mail available for possible quotation -- but not with the sender's real name unless you explicitly state that it may be used. If you are wondering why Fallows does not use a "Comments" field below his posts, please see previous explanations here and here.
On her own new section of this site -- they grow up so fast! -- Deb Fallows has a very interesting post with reader reaction on the topic she raised last week: the conversational cues and questions people use to find out about others they have just met. These range from "What's your parish?" in Chicago (as it happens, her native city) to "What are you?" in Philly (as it happens, mine), the latter inviting an answer of "Polish," "Italian," etc.
I'm mentioning it here both on its merits and for housekeeping reasons. All of our posts, plus John Tierney's, from our ongoing-though-temporarily-snowboundAmerican Futures series will appear together on the AFproject page. But now Deb and John will have their own items in their own author-channels, rather than having them show up here in potentially confusing hybrid-byline mode. Please go to Deb's and check this out!
Update Deb's post is about a range of first-meeting conversational ploys. One of the readers she quotes mentions the approach I've used over the years. "So, what's your story?" Everybody has one.
A more cynical media-centric option is one that Erik Tarloff, my friend and birthday-mate, employed in his novel Face Time. That is to begin any talk with anyone in the DC or NY media by saying, "Love you work!" Or "that was a great piece" or "You've been on a roll." Sigh. Probably works in LA too, or anywhere.
Back to the high road: When you know someone's general field of work, but haven't followed what he or she has been up to recently, there is the always-dependable "So, what are you working on?" or "What's your current project?" Again, this is not cynical: it's a way to get people talk about what they're interested in -- which is when most of us are most interesting.
When we were in Greenville SC recently, I was surprised to learn that a very common follow-up to the greeting of “How do you do?” or “Nice to meet you,” is the question “Where do you go to church?” I wrote about it here.
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Lots of you wrote in about this question, “Where do you go to church?” Some of you considered the question to be intrusive and even offensive. From a reader in Washington DC: "If someone asked me 'Where do you go to church?' I'd be flummoxed at least and offended at worst." Others were not at all flummoxed, and wondered why I would be surprised. And on a web forum at city-data.com discussing just this question, writers from places as distinct as rural Maine and Kentucky said this expression is commonly heard.
Many more of you reported other queries that you would be likely to say or hear in your own hometowns. So far, I would say that your suggestions fall into 3 different categories: social orientation, work, and neutral territory. (And to be clear here, I’m ruling out pickup lines; that’s another topic. I am referring to general conversation openers that aim for a sweet spot between impersonal and too personal, between vapid and too pungent.)
Social orientation: The two women I met in Greenville SC, interpreted the real meaning of “Where do you go to church?” as something to orient you socially, like “Who are your people?” or “Where do you fit in?” A New Yorker who posted on the city-data forum echoed this and suggested the socially orienting analogy there might be pizza: “It's just like someone asking you what grocery store you go to or what pizzeria (New Yorkers love pizza) you go to,” she wrote.
Readers far afield have other candidates. One reader from Hawaii writes that among those who grew up on Oahu, the question is: "Where did you go to high school?" Same from a reader from New Orleans. “Where’d you go to school?” he clarified, means high school, not college. (This plucky reader also said a close second is, “Who’s your mama?” but I think he was pulling my leg.)
In Boston, a reader says “Where do you live?” elicits a single name from the 351 towns around Boston. “If you live in Somerville, you say Somerville; you would never say 'near Cambridge.'” I’m guessing that in Boston, people are fishing for the same kind of information as in my hometown of Washington DC. Sometimes we look for geography, but more often, I think, our mental maps outline the culture and lifestyle of suburbs or neighborhoods.
Work: “So, what do you do?” wrote another reader from Washington DC. I heartily agree that in Washington DC, this is the default question. Everyone here knows that it is a not-so-veiled way of assessing power and connections, the currency of the town.
Interestingly, in Burlington VT, people said this same question actually means “What do you do for hobbies?
A bi-coastal resident writes that in the Bay area as well as Manhattan, the version of the work question is a fill-in-the-blank: "And you’re with… ?" And lest you misinterpret, she writes, “this refers not to the person who brought you to the gathering, still less to your spouse or companion, but to your work affiliation.”
Neutral-ground: There is the totally tame: “How ‘bout this weather!” Or the slightly more risky: “How ’bout that game!” A version from the small-town south: “How you getting along?” And from a larger town, where everyone doesn’t know everyone: "So how do you know [the host]?" One big-city reader suggests this question is not so innocent, but can actually be a useful probe: “We're a networking city and even small events are often big.”
A resident of VT explained a Burlington-specific question, “How did you get here?” This isn’t meant to be prying, she said, it’s rather that so many people have a back story of how they finally landed in Burlington. But it’s also a little tricky, a question you would warm up to, instead of one you ask right off the bat. Interestingly, when we were in Alaska last year, people told us that you never ask that question, since the backstory could be sketchy.
Finally, one weary-sounding man who has lived all over the south, southwest, and even the east wrote in: "It never occurred to me … that Hello/How Do You Do might have any formulaic follow-up. So, to answer the question, in my experience the answer is 'Nothing.'"
We’d like to hear from you, to help fill in the grid of who says what where. Please email me, with your geographic coordinates, at Debfallows at gmail.
I never think I'll end up watching these oddball winter events, and yet... The payoff last night:
1) Jun Miyake. If you watched, you know that American figure skating champion Jeremy Abbott had a rough night. It was the more painful because, when not falling, he is so obviously elegant in carriage and movement. Silver lining of his heartbreak: if you watched, you heard him skate to this music, "Lillies of the Valley," from Jun Miyake, which was new at least to me. The video below is a different kind of elegance, more David Lynch-hypnotic, but the music is the same.
2) Vladimir Pozner! Here is the only thing that's been missing in Reagan-era verisimilitude, from the otherwise delectable FX series The Americans: No cameos of Vladimir Pozner. For those who weren't around in the 1980s, it is difficult to convey how weird it seemed to have this urbane character smoothly laying out official Soviet agitprop on Nightline and other programs -- and sounding as if he'd grown up in New York City, because in fact he had. The picture below is how he looked back in the day. (You can see him, circa 2000, talking with a surprising young-ish and less tedious Rush Limbaugh, here.)
I tell myself that native-sounding accents shouldn't really matter in our assessment of people; that it's all about the accident of where you happened to be during those crucial phoneme-developing elementary-school years; and that actors, if they're good enough, can pass themselves off as almost native. (Hugh Laurie of House, Dominic West of The Wire, both Brits passing as Americans; Meryl Streep passing as anything.) Still, listening to Pozner during the Cold War was truly strange.
And now, thanks to the Sochi Olympics, he is back! Apparently in Russia he's never gone away. But last night he was on NBC, in an improbable segment with David Remnick (yes) and Bob Costas, on Russia, sport, resentment, and more. Among other things, Pozner let us know that for the host country, it was all about the national hockey team. "If we win, nothing else [that goes wrong in Sochi] will matter. And if we lose, nothing else will matter." On homophobia: "I would say that 85% of Russians are homophobic, not just in disapproval but to the point of physical violence. This is a very homophobic country."
I'll be watching for him, and will be disappointed if the next season of The Americans doesn't work him in.
Olympic bonus point #3, following on Pozner's observation: yesterday's Google Doodle. Understated in design but unmistakable in its stand.
Now two transition notes. First, about over-correction in language. A reader writes:
I read with great interest your articles on the "Frenchified" pronunciation of Beijing as Beizhing during the 2012 Olympics. A similar phenomenon appears to be affecting announcers talking about Sochi this year. I've heard several referring to "Soshi", the latest being the ATC TV critic Eric Deggans just this evening (just a little after 5pm EST). [JF note: didn't hear it the first time through, but link is here and embedded below. In the intro you hear the host, I believe NPR's Audie Cornish, say Sochi. Then about a minute in we get Soshi.]
Does the softer fricative just sound more "foreign"? In the case of Sochi, there can be no confusion based on spelling!
Here is the NPR player:
I think there is something to the theory that when in doubt, Americans instinctively class up a foreign word by making it sound "French." I am no expert in the Slavic world, but through the magic of this delightful site I will assert that сочи, the name of the Olympic home city, is pronounced with what sounds to English speakers like more a ch- than a sh- sound. Listen for yourself. It's on the Internet, so it must be true.
Second, and on an entirely different scale, an update about Robert Gates. Last week, as part of an Iran-sanctions reader, I linked to Mike Lofgren's criticism of Gates's tenure at DOD and his book. A professor at Texas A&M, where Gates was president for four years before he came back to DC to succeed Donald Rumsfeld at the Pentagon, writes in to disagree. This note comes from John Nielsen-Gammon, who is the Regents Professor at A&M and also the Texas State Climatologist; I've quoted his scientific views before. Since he is criticizing Lofgren by name, and Lofgren was directly criticizing Gates, it seem fair to use Nielsen-Gammon's name too (as he agreed). Here goes:
Been busy and just now saw your reference to Mike Lofgren's piece on Robert Gates. I followed the link and was reading the piece with a combination of alarm and skepticism, unsure of how much I should take Lofgren's words at face value (having not read Gates' side of it yet), when I came to this paragraph:
[Lofgren writes:] "In between the two Bush presidencies, Gates became – quelle surprise! – dean of the newly-minted George Bush School of Government and Public Service at Texas A&M University. Later he was president of that university. This is not the place to exhaustively examine the subject, but Gates's tenure at Texas A&M is another example of the corrosive effect of the revolving door between political operatives in government and the American university system. While these persons' fundraising prowess based on their extensive network of rich contacts as well as their ability to wangle federal education grants may benefit the university in the short run, the intellectually corrupting influence of such operatives, along with the growing dependence of universities on a cadre of politically motivated government elites, poses a long-term threat to the academic independence of higher education. One need only look at Harvard's Kennedy School of Government, the bleaching tub of the self-perpetuating American political oligarchy, to see the danger."
[Back to Nielsen-Gammon:] At last something of which I have personal knowledge, with which I could gauge Lofgren's credibility. I've been on the faculty of Texas A&M University since before Gates arrived.
Gates was surely designated the first Dean of the Bush School (no "George") of Government and Public Service because he was both a friend of the George Bush family and a veteran of governmental affairs. His appointment was met with understandable concern among the faculty there, who saw the political appointment of a man with no higher education experience.
However, in his two years as Dean, he showed himself to be a fine academic administrator and one of the best Deans in the University at working with faculty to further the academic mission of the School.
When it was time to hire a new President in 2001, it came down to two men. The overwhelming preference on campus was for Robert Gates, based on his track record at the Bush School. However, many on the governor-appointed Board of Regents were in favor of sidestepping the search committee's recommendation in favor of sitting Sen. Phil Gramm, a former economics professor at Texas A&M. In this instance, Gramm would have represented "the revolving door between political operatives in government and the American university system". Eventually, in a split vote, Gates was chosen to be President, and the campus breathed a collective sigh of relief that we had avoided having the office of President of the University become politicized.
As President, Gates inherited a broad but ambitious plan to move the University forward into the top ten of public universities by the year 2020. He chose to focus on four key objectives, including "elevating the faculty", and was responsible for expanding the size of the faculty by over 400 members at a time when public spending for higher education in Texas was becoming a hard sell in a conservative state. He oversaw the beginning of construction of the campus's first building dedicated to liberal arts amid outside suspicion of what "liberal arts" stood for. His continued focus on the quality of the education Texas A&M provides its students and his strength of character to fend off harmful political interference, contribute to him being widely regarded as one of the greatest presidents in the history of Texas A&M University.
Offered for the record. Also on the subject of Texans in the news, congratulations to my friend and one-time employer* Rep. Lloyd Doggett. He is a Democrat who was elected from Austin in 1994 (after losing a U.S. Senate race to the same Phil Gramm and being elected to the Texas Supreme Court) and has survived a series of hostile gerrymanders since then. Now he is leading a House effort against the poison-pill Iran sanctions bill. Greg Sargent has the story here. Good for Rep. Doggett and those working with him.
* Back in the mid-70s, when the 20-something Lloyd Doggett had just won a seat in the Texas State Senate, and my wife had just begun linguistics graduate school at the University of Texas in Austin, I worked as an aide/gofer on Lloyd's legislative staff. I wasn't there long, before joining the then-startup Texas Monthly, but nonetheless I take credit for, or at least pleasure in, his subsequent attainments.
Not doing an annotated version this year, for mainly technical reasons. Thus this bullet-point version. (Plus, discussed the speech this morning on the Brian Lehrer Show on WNYC, and last night right after the event on Charlie Rose.)
1) Theme: it had one. The curse/burden of writing State of the Union messages, and the challenge in listening to them, is that their entire point is to be encyclopedic. It's the president's main shot at listing all the things he's hoping to do. Thus their standard "Turning now to foreign affairs ... " creaky-transition structure, and thus the difficulty of discerning any main theme.
But this one had a theme, and a narrative-argumentative structure. That theme was: things are getting better -- and so, my colleagues in government, let's stop screwing them up. The positive part of the theme allowed Obama to make his version of a morning-in-America presentation: manufacturing up, energy imports and carbon emissions down, health coverage expanding. It also allowed him to make the must-do-more part: inequality and uneven opportunity are the main challenges to doing better. So let's deal with them.
2) Bearing: Obama's mattered. The news of the past few months has all been of a diminished, aloof, estranged, premature-lame-duck Obama. If the man we'd seen last night had resembled the beaten-seeming Obama of the first 2012 Romney-Obama debate, the out-of-it verdict would have solidified. That wouldn't have moved him into permanent figurehead status, because "expert" judgments about politicians are notoriously fickle. (Bill Clinton is now viewed on all sides as a kind of sun king of political dexterity. After the defeat of his medical-care bill, a crushed-seeming President Clinton had to mewl at a press conference that he was "still relevant.") But it would have made things that much harder.
So, all judgments are fluid. But—as he has time and again with "big" speeches—Obama improved his standing by seeming sunny, confident, relaxed, and engaged.
You could say, "Reaganesque," by which I mean: seeming sunnily confident himself, seeming similarly confident about the country, and seeming (most of the time) amused and unflustered by the realities of political division, rather than embittered or scolding about them.
3) American Futures—the speech. It was considerate of the president to begin with a litany of local manufacturing start-ups and community public-private development efforts very much like the ones we've been chronicling in recent months. If he ever tires of Air Force One, there is a seat for him in our Cirrus.
4) Inequality—the shrewd way he positioned it. The news before the speech was that Obama was going to dwell on the worst economic reality of the times, in the United States and virtually all other countries: things are getting better overall, but not for all or even most people. And his opponents were gearing up for a "we are shocked, just shocked by this descent into 'class war' " lament.
So when he talked about strictly economic issues, Obama kept carefully to a "growing pie" tone. It's great that rich people have done so well. Let's help everyone prosper. And when he worked the class-war beat, it was on a front where the Republicans dared not (sanely) oppose him: arguing that today's economy is unfair to women. I.e., to most Americans.
5) Nicest deviation from prepared text—the missing "er." The official text of the speech had this passage about symbols of American opportunity:
Here in America, our success should depend not on accident of birth, but the strength of our work ethic and the scope of our dreams. That’s what drew our forebears here. It’s how the daughter of a factory worker is CEO of America’s largest automaker; how the son of a barkeeper is Speaker of the House; how the son of a single mom can be President of the greatest nation on Earth.
What Obama actually said about John Boehner was, "the son of a barkeep." A tiny difference that was ineffably charming. Boehner himself was manifestly charmed. And the sequence of examples here—first female head of General Motors (which, nudge-nudge, the government helped rescue); the son of a barkeep sitting here behind me; and only then the son of a single mother standing at the podium—put Obama's own story, which is (of course) tremendously important but which (of course) we all already know, in a broader "all in this together" frame.
6) Back to vintage-2008 Obama. On the substance, sentences I was very glad to hear:
So, even as we aggressively pursue terrorist networks—through more targeted efforts and by building the capacity of our foreign partners—America must move off a permanent war footing .... And with the Afghan war ending, this needs to be the year Congress lifts the remaining restrictions on detainee transfers and we close the prison at Guantanamo Bay—because we counter terrorism not just through intelligence and military action, but by
7) Laying down the law, in the right way—about Iran. Also very glad to hear these lines:
Let me be clear: if this Congress sends me a new sanctions bill now that threatens to derail these talks, I will veto it. For the sake of our national security, we must give diplomacy a chance to succeed... If Iran’s leaders do seize the chance, then Iran could take an important step to rejoin the community of nations, and we will have resolved one of the leading security challenges of our time without the risks of war.
If John F. Kennedy and Ronald Reagan could negotiate with the Soviet Union, then surely a strong and confident America can negotiate with less powerful adversaries today.
Exactly. For later discussion, the way effective (finding bin Laden) and excessive (drone/surveillance) aspects of Obama's records should insulate him from the need to "prove" his toughness.
8) Sergeant First Class Cory Remsburg. About the service and sacrifice of this brave man and other men and women like him, we cannot say enough. As Obama emphasized, Sgt. Remsburg's grave injury came on his tenth deployment. I do not doubt that Obama, like his wartime predecessors, is genuinely seized by both anguish and admiration about the people he has sent into harm's way. Even when, and perhaps more so when, like Obama he has been trying to withdraw those troops.
And no one can doubt the drama and power of the speech's closing minutes.
But while that moment reflected limitless credit on Sgt. Remsburg, his family, and others similarly situated; and while I believe it was genuinely respectful on the president's part, I don't think the sustained ovation reflected well on the America of 2014. It was a good and honorable moment for him and his family. But I think the spectacle should make most Americans uneasy.
The vast majority of us play no part whatsoever in these prolonged overseas campaigns; people like Sgt. Remsburg go out on 10 deployments; we rousingly cheer their courage and will; and then we move on. Last month I mentioned that the most memorable book I read in 2013 was Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk, by Ben Fountain. It's about a group of U.S. soldiers who barely survive a terrible encounter in Iraq, and then are paraded around in a halftime tribute at a big Dallas Cowboys game. The crowd at Cowboys Stadium cheers in very much the way the Capitol audience did last night—then they get back to watching the game.
Greenville is located in the heart of The Upcountry of South Carolina. Colloquially, most people now seem to call this The Upstate. It's not simply geographically upstate, as in "upstate New York," but a moniker with strong cultural and historical references. The Upcountry or Upstate was the heartland of South Carolina's now-diminished textile industry, and by their own description, the people are scrappy and hard-working. Besides referring to The Upstate, people in Greenville generally divided the rest of South Carolina into the Midlands, which includes Columbia, the capital; the Pee Dee, in the northeast and named for the native American Pee Dee tribe, and the Low Country, home of plantations and historic Charleston. It's a smaller state, #40 of the 50 by size, but with a lot of internal variation.
I went to Greenville listening for what kind of southernisms I might hear. I wasn't disappointed: the accent is alive and well, classic words and phrases abound, and best of all, the conversations are comfortably padded with folksy, southern expressions. You won't regret watching the video below.
Regionalisms: A look at my favorite Harvard dialect study confirmed that I could count on the obvious: South Carolina is “y’all” country. Some 72% of South Carolinians say that, compared with 14% in the US overall. Even the strong national pull of “you guys”, which my husband Jim, a Californian, swears originated in California and moved out from there, can’t take over from y’all in the South. Only 13% of South Carolinians use “you guys”, so far at least. In one modern moment, when I was talking with a Greenville native, she said y’all to me. Then, her regional linguistic self-awareness kicked in and she hesitated, tracked back, and offered up a clarifying “you”.
And here is something really bizarre. Again from the dialect study is question #80: “What do you call it when rain falls when the sun is shining?” Well, over half the people in the country don’t even have an expression for this. But in South Carolina, over 43% of people say “ the devil is beating his wife”.
One question the survey didn’t ask, but I wish it had, is about greetings and introductions. In my own personally-conducted linguistic survey in Greenville (read: I asked around), several residents reported that the follow-up you’re likely to hear after “Hello” or “How do you do?” is “Where do you go to church?” I suspect this isn’t confined to the South. When I asked about the intention of this phrase in Greenville, two women I met went back and forth about its real meaning. They settled on some version of “Who are your people?” or “Where do you fit in?” That makes sense to me. If you have your own nomination for this after-you-say “How do you do?” question, send it along to me (contact details below) with your location, and we’ll make our own nationwide map.
Pride and Surprise: We had many conversations with residents of Greenville about the story of the town center’s revitalization as an exciting, attractive, busy place. All sorts of people talked with us: city officials, developers, educators, artists, shopkeepers, restaurant owners, philanthropists, entrepreneurs, journalists, students, parents of students, and wage earners. Two sentiments about the town prevailed: pride and a sense of surprise.
The first we almost expected. Of the more than half dozen towns where we have spent time over the last several months, I would say they all share the trait of having intense pride for investing in, among other things, the revitalizing of the downtown space. This was true in Sioux Falls, Holland MI, Burlington VT, Rapid City, Eastport ME, and Redlands CA. This same sense of pride came through clearly in the thousand or so responses we received in the “nominate your town” request to suggest places we could visit. (Here was the original nominating page, still open for new suggestions.) People love their hometowns and what they are building there.
The second was unique, so far, to Greenville – the surprise from residents at how quickly and broadly their town has improved. Greenville reports on itself that it had a long way to go. The vision of Mayor Max Heller in the 1970s to rebuild the town after the collapse of the textile industry to one of culture, recreation, and commerce was beginning to see some results after a long decade. But even into the 1990s, people recounted to us, there were not many reasons to go to Main St., and there were a lot of reasons not to. There were few restaurants and lots of empty storefronts. The now elegantly-restored Westin Poinsett Hotel was “the tallest crackhouse in town” hitting its nadir after its demise from a grande-dame hotel to a retirement home to abandonment. The general warning from residents to each other was about the derelict nature of the southern edge of downtown, including the traffic bridge that crossed the Reedy River above its natural falls. “Don’t go near the bridge,” people today said that people used to say. Now, people generally marvel at the changes over the last 15 years.
Folksy language: You know you’re somewhere when people say, “Katy, bar the door!” in the middle of a conversation. And you know it’s a place where people don’t cautiously spoon out their language, wary of soundbites. Here is an example:
One piece of the plan for rebuilding Greenville included demolishing the traffic bridge over the Reedy River, a bridge that hid the view of the falls beneath it, and for prettying up the space around the falls with a park complex. Fifteen years of controversy roiled over an idea that was embraced by some and met with strong resistance by others. “Why take down a perfectly good bridge?” asked a group of people who were happy to let things be, and who didn’t see river revitalization as an attractive proposition. “The River, Yuck!” as it was “all kudzu and poison ivy.” By today’s retelling, these folks were all about “Katy, bar the door!”
Well, the bridge did get demolished, the new Falls Park area with the elegant pedestrian Liberty Bridge was dedicated in 2004. And so much more was developed or restored: the Swamp Rabbit Trail along an old rail bed for runners, walkers and bikers, the Peace Center for the arts, old textile mills, the restaurants and brew pubs, specialty shops selling everything from Jerky to ice cream, the ice rink, the Fluor Field, the in-town baseball stadium which is now a bookend to the west-end (which is actually to the south) development. “It used to be a mile’s a ways out,” but now walking that distance to the field suggests that expansion is going to continue a ways beyond that.
As for the fruit of the huge redevelopment effort, “Dadgum if we didn’t do it!” summed up a revered town elder.
Newcomers and young returnees to Greenville vouch for its current coolness. One 20-something entrepreneur, Eric Dodds, whom Jim wrote about in a post on the start-up culture of Greenville, who had grown up in the town, left in a hurry for college, returned home on a visit and uttered a “Holy cow!” upon seeing the change. He has moved back.
Many people told us the stories of recruiting outsiders to Greenville for jobs in education, tech, and business of all sorts. The typical outsiders’ reaction, residents reported in a way that you know precedes a punch line, was always “Greenville, South Carolina? Are you kidding?” The finale was always something like: “Well, within a week, they had called a realtor and bought a house.”
The earthy language of Greenville has given me heart that American English has not become homogenized, and that regionalisms are alive and well.
To contact the author, including with more suggestions about American regional English, write DebFallows at gmail.com.
[See update* below.] On our recent flight home in our small plane from Eastport ME, to Washington DC, we were listening, as we often do, to the air traffic controllers (ATC). They were talking back and forth with various aircraft in the usual manner:
Pilot: New York Center. American 935. fifteen thousand feet.
And the air traffic controller’s response is: Acknowledgment. Altimeter reading (necessary gauge for determining altitude)
ATC: American 935. New York Center. New York altimeter 30.14.
Then a little while later, we heard a callsign I had never heard before: Brickyard. It was an exchange something like this:
Pilot: Washington Center. Brickyard 215. nine thousand.
ATC: Brickyard 215. Washington Center. Washington altimeter 30.10.
I wondered about Brickyard, and learned that it belongs to Republic Airlines, a regional supplier that operates flights for major national brands. I know that airline as one that sometimes flies the daily nonstop as US Airways Express between Washington DC, where I live, and Sarasota FL, where my mom lives. Republic also operates service for a number of other airlines, like American Eagle and Frontier.
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But Brickyard? Well, according to Funtrivia.com, Republic is the regional airline out of Indianapolis, home of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, nicknamed The Brickyard.
A few weeks later, I read my husband, Jim’s, post about the enormous 747 “dreamlifter” cargo airplane that landed at the wrong -- and much too small -- airport in Kansas. I heard on the recording between the ATC and the pilot that the big plane had the callsign Giant. Fitting, I thought, when I learned that Giant is the callsign for Atlas Air.
Many of the major airlines use callsigns of their standard company names, like American, United, Lufthansa, Alitalia, and Delta. But then there are the other creative and curious ones, which we hear regularly along the east coast through New England and MidAtlantic states. Ones like Citrus, Cactus, and Waterski.
Cactus? US Airways merged with America West Airlines, and based out of Tempe AZ, home to so many saguaro cacti.
Citrus? AirTran Airways, headquartered now in Dallas, but at one time in Orlando.
Waterski? Trans States Airlines, another regional airline which operates for United Express and US Airways Express. It was originally Resort Air, which ferried vacationers (and presumably waterskiiers) to Lake of the Ozarks.
So that got me wondering about all the callsigns. Who are they? What are their etymologies? Do they fall into categories? I did some digging and here’s what I discovered:
First, this can get overwhelming very quickly! As I look right now, I see live tracking of every airplane in the air. Delta has 388 planes flying. United has 351. Southwest has 345, and American 205, and on down the list of hundreds of individual airlines. Their callsigns are right there, too. And if that isn’t enough for you, go here to see a complete list of airlines, beyond those that have planes in the air right now. I can’t even count the total.
As a way to get a handle on this, I decided to see if I could find any interesting categories or patterns among the callsigns. Here is a makeshift taxonomy:
Animal names: Of course, bird names are well represented, but there are lots of other land creatures as well.
Speedbird, British Airways
Eagle Flight, American Eagle
Flying Eagle, Eagle Air from Tanzania
White Eagle, White Eagle Aviation from Poland
Twin-Goose, Air-taxi from Europe
Kingfisher, Kingfisher Airlines from India
Rooster, Hahn Air from Germany (Hahn is German for rooster!)
Jetbird, Primera Air from Iceland
Bird Express, Aero Services Executive from France
Polish Bird, Air Poland
Bluebird, Virgin Samoa
Songbird, Sky King from the US
Nile Bird, Nile Air from Egypt
Nilecat, Delta Connection Kenya
Flying Dolphin, Dolphin Air from UAE
Deer Jet, Beijing Capital Airlines
Dragon, Tianjin Airlines from China
Longhorn, Express One International from the US (Texas, I suppose)
Springbok, South African Airways
Bambi, Allied Air Cargo from Nigeria (At least I like to think it references Bambi)
Simba, African International Airlines
Go Cat, Tiger Airways, Singapore
Polar Tiger, Polar Air Cargo, Long Beach
Sky Themes, with many evocative references to space flight and fantasy:
Flagship, Endeavor Air from Minneapolis
Blue Streak, PSA Airlines from Ohio
Star Check, Air Net from Ohio
Air Thunder, Thunder from Canada
Sky Challenge, Challenge Aero from Ukraine
White Star, Star Air from Denmark
Mercury, Shuttle America from Indiana
Archangelsk, Nordavia from Russia
Something about the Country of Origin:
Glacier, Central Mountain from Canada
Shamrock, Aer Lingus
Bearskin, Bearskin Lake Air Service Ltd. from Canada
Sandbar, Mega Maldives
Gotham, Meridian Air Charter from Teterboro NJ
Vegas Heat, Corporate Flight International
Lucky Air, Lucky Air from China
Viking, Thomas Cook Airlines Scandinavia
Great Wall, Great Wall Airlines
Fuji Dream, Fuji Dream Airlines
Jade Cargo, Jade Cargo International from China
SpiceJet, SpiceJet from India
Salsa, SALSA D’Haiti
Delphi, Fly Hellas from Greece
And just for fun:
Lindbergh, GoJet from Missouri
Wild Onion, Chicago Air
Rex, Regional Express from Australia
Suckling, Scot Airways from the UK*
Yellow, DHL Aero Express from Panama
There are many, many more. But these alone are reason enough for passengers on commercial planes to request listening in on the chatter between the ATCs and the pilots.
ScotAir's mom-and-pop parent firm, before a lot of corporate chopping and changing, was a couple named Suckling. It's a common name in East Anglia. Sir John Suckling, poet and inventor of cribbage, came from those parts.
They ran off of a grass strip in Ipswich, to Edinburgh and Manchester. The in-flight meals were cooked in their kitchen and driven to the plane. A wonderful story, and a BBC documentary. But 9/11 and a bunch of mergers ended that. In Apri1 2013 the entity disappeared and its call sign went with it.
The image you see above is a “magic roundabout” in Colchester, England. It includes 5 mini-roundabouts embedded in a giant one. Imagine driving that on the left side of the road!
Roundabout. Traffic Circle. Rotary. According to the Harvard Dialect Study, we Americans are pretty divided about what to call a traffic circle, which is my own word of choice, like nearly 40% of the rest of you.
Before we headed to Burlington, Vermont, a few weeks ago, I checked out the same survey's results on what Vermonters would say:
So, Vermonters are in the heart of New England’s Rotary Country.
Reinvention and resilience across the nation Read more
Disappointingly, we didn’t find a single rotary to drive through during our few visits to Burlington. I had hoped to check out the local usage and the signage. But I did learn that there is at least one traffic circle in the area, in next-door Winooski, Vermont. And an article in the Burlington Free Press managed to include just about every term for traffic circle that they could, as well as a distinct sense that there is no love lost on that particular traffic circle. (The piece was written two years ago, about a then 5-year-old circle):
WINOOSKI — Cathy Simard was steaming Monday morning, parked in her minivan amid car fumes in standstill traffic waiting to get into the downtown Winooski traffic circle.
"I hate this Winooski circle. It's the stupidest thing they ever did," she said. "It's a traffic hazard."…
The Winooski traffic circle is more complicated than most roundabouts, which have fewer streets feeding into them, fewer pedestrians to deal with and lower traffic volumes, according to traffic engineers…
“I’ve never seen a rotary with a stop light. It definitely defeats the purpose of it,” said commuter Will Telford, 33, as he waited Monday morning.
While my search for Vermont rotary signage didn’t work out, I did discover something else very interesting about the language of signs in Burlington. Something, I think, that suggested reams about the sociocultural landscape of the town.
First, I noticed signs that target two subsets of the upscale population of Burlington: the literati and the affluent Canadian tourists (which may overlap). Just have a look at themed Eat-Pray-Love knock-offs: the savvy bookstore, whose patrons would recognize the allusion; the wine store with their connoisseurs; and finally, the ice cream shop of Burlington’s own favorite sons, Ben & Jerry.
Second, I noticed the bilingual signs, which aim for the French-speaking Canadians who live just a few hours north of Burlington, in Quebec. For any US resident who lives some distance from the Canadian border, it is surprising to see bilingual signs that feature French instead of Spanish. Yes, like other towns, Burlington has its share of ethnic communities and the neighborhood signs in Vietnamese or Nepali or Arabic. But here comes French, albeit in a rather half-hearted outreach of language. Maybe the French-speaking Canadians feel welcome and comfortable by a little visible French, but maybe they feel condescended to by signs I saw like EXIT/SORTIE (Gee, merci, for that help.) and also these:
Another collection of signs caught my eye for their negativity and ubiquity. We are all used to seeing the DO NOT category of signs for forbidden things: No Smoking; No Parking; No Outside Food; Keep Off the Grass; etc.
I have a theory on why Burlington has so many signs like this, which I’ll divulge after you’ve had a look. First, a bike stand:
Now, rules of the road, with a dog, and in French!
Huh? Maybe CCTA customers are allowed to loiter, if they're close to the wall?
More do's and don'ts of bus stop behavior.
And polite orders at City Hall.
OK, here’s what I think. A few days ago Jim described the “open to the public” mentality you see in many aspects of Burlington. The town strives in its development and its culture to offer everyone – wealthy and hard-up, old-timers and new arrivals -- access to the rich offerings of the town. The parts of town where I took the photos of these signs were all in the revitalized parts of town, the newly-developed commercial and recreational areas. When I walked through these areas, I saw plenty of well-heeled folks and at certain times of day, many down-in-the-heel folks as well. It seemed to me that the signs acknowledged that fine, everyone was welcome, but the signs were also very visible as warnings to keep order and maintain good behavior.
Reinvention and resilience across the nation Read more
Many readers wrote in about my recent post on how so many South Dakotans end a sentence with with. As in, “Are you coming with?” instead of “Are you coming with us?” And as shown in the map above, from Joshua Katz at NC State.
Most suggested that this construction comes from German or one of the Scandinavian languages. (South Dakota’s ethnic makeup is about 40% German and 15% Norwegian). I agree! Here are two emails to represent the rest:
I wonder: are there many people in Sioux Falls of German ancestry? Because "coming with" is good German: the verb mitkommen, or in interrogative form, Kommen Sie mit? literally translates as "Are you coming with?"
I am not a linguist, but I have a theory. Much of the upper Midwest was settled by Germans. The verb "come along" is mitkommen as opposed to simply "come" for kommen. In a sentence, however, the mit often is moved to the end of the sentence.
Everyone is a linguist!
I decided to email my dissertation supervisor and go-to linguistics guru, who is also a specialist in Germanic languages. That is Bob King, now retired from the linguistics department at the University of Texas at Austin, where I did my graduate work (Hook ‘em!). He confirmed:
"Come with," also "go with" ("Are you going with?"), is an upper Midwest thing, where you had the bulk of settlers from Germany, Norway, Sweden, and some from Holland. All of those languages have the "come with" thing… Norwegian especially, but also Swedish and Dutch.
I asked him about other German enclaves in America, like Texas and Cincinnati. He wrote:
“I have never heard it in Texas German, now on its last legs but alive when I came here in the Sixties. I wouldn't be surprised if Texas German does have it but I just haven't heard it… But it certainly hasn't spread to English--you never hear it here except among upper Midwest transplants.
And he added an interesting bonus from a historical perspective:
“When I studied in Germany (in the late ‘50’s) I feel like one didn't say Kommen Sie mit? and so on as much as they do now. The language was more formal fifty years ago, the du--Sie distinction more rigidly enforced, and I remember saying and hearing Kommen Sie? as normal. Adding the mit softens it, the way adding things frequently does: "He is Jewish" sounds nicer than "He is a Jew." Like Kommen Sie mit! in the imperative sounds less Gestapo-like than Kommen Sie!
I’m going to be on the lookout for other “softeners” in regional English usage. Wait until we get to Texas, where using one qualifier like might, would, or could isn’t enough. There, “might could” – a double softener – prevails. English usage can seem to go to extremes compared with, say, Chinese. For example, when in China, the way to decline an offer from a waiter for water is bu yao! (don’t want; don’t need). In English, we tend to add a lot of padding and softening: “Oh no thanks, not right now. Maybe later. But thanks!” I wrote about this in Dreaming in Chinese.
Please send me your stories about sentence-final with! or other regionalisms I should be watching for. The address is debfallows at gmail.
When we arrived in Sioux Falls, I was very excited about hearing the Dakota accent. Think Frances McDormand in the movie Fargo. Or try listening to the language in this mash-up video (not embeddable) between McDormand and Sarah Palin. Those "O's" ; the friendly "you betcha's"! Having spent 7 formative childhood linguistic years in nearby Minnesota, I find the Dakota way of speaking familiar and comforting.
So imagine my disappointment to discover instead more linguistic mutts like me, whose regional accent has lost its edge from all the moving around: for me, MN, IL, OH, MA, DC, TX, WA, CA. I did hear one absolutely pure Dakota accent, from a young woman just moved south from, where else, Fargo. And there were lots of telltale upper-midwest vowel sounds. You'll hear an example the next time you are on the phone with a call center from Citibank, Aetna, Cigna, etc. Listen hard; the agent is likely to be sitting in Sioux Falls!
Here, however, is one charming grammatical item that has dug in to Sioux Falls language: the use of stand-alone With.
Some 68% of South Dakota people surveyed in the recent Harvard Dialect Survey said that they would use this construction:
You can see the via the clustering of red dots in the upper Midwest, meaning a "yes" answer, that this is a regional phenomenon:
This sentence-final "with" is not to be lumped together with the other sentence-final prepositions that strict grammarians still try - against popular convention -- to drum out of us. Every nun in elementary school scolded me that "What music are you listening to?" must be rearranged so that the preposition is in its proper place, right in front of its object: "To what music are you listening?" or "Whom are you talking with?" must be "With whom are you talking?"
This regional use of "with" has a different explanation: the preposition "with" hasn't been moved around in the sentence; rather, the object of the preposition "with" is just dropped. I would argue that dropping the "us" as in "Are you coming with?" is efficient and harmless. It doesn't really matter to the meaning; everyone knows what you are saying. I think I'll start saying this, just for fun and to see if anyone notices.
Act One: Late last year I revisit my friend Liam Casey, the Irish entrepreneur deeply involved in the global outsourcing-industrial complex, at the headquarters of his PCH International company in Shenzhen, China. I do an an update on his views of the shifting trends in world manufacturing, in an Atlantic story called "Mr. China Comes to America" -- source of the photo above, showing him and one of his factory lines.
Act One-and-a-Half: Liam tells me to watch for word of his opening a new design center in San Francisco, emblematic of the Bay Area's taking on an expanded role in the ever-faster branding-design-manufacturing cycle.
Act Two: TechCrunch runs a nice story last week on the opening of the new SF design center. The title of the story is "Mr. China Goes to San Francisco," with gracious references to the ongoing Atlantic chronicles of the activities of Mr. China. It also explains Casey's current ambitions for the center, and in general:
A teetotaling Irishman, the inexhaustible Casey ostensibly lives in a hotel [JF: the Four Points Sheraton] in downtown Shenzhen but is nearly always in the air. He and his cross-cultural team make nearly all the accessories you can imagine for multiple vendors. You couldn't point a finger in a Best Buy without hitting a product PCH builds. He envisions his new building as a gateway to China and a way to help clients - and the public - understand the vagaries of mass manufacturing.
Those are the China-related and Atlantic-related parts of this item. Now, we come to Big Data part:
Act Three: A number of auto-translate bots convert the TechCrunch story to Chinese -- and then evidently back out again. Here is the way it looks when it has made the round trip from English to Chinese and then to English. The headlines, from a site tracking pickup of our articles, will give you the idea:
Liam Casey has both enjoyed and been mildly embarrassed by the jokey moniker "Mr. China." Let's see how he likes becoming "Mr. Serving dishes." All this is in the ongoing category of "big data making us smarter, sort of."
One of many charming touches in Seth MacFarlane's Oscar-hosting role -- remember that? -- was the line about those wacky, funny-talking Hispanics. It was a good thing, he said, that Salma Hayek, Javier Bardem, and Penelope Cruz were all so easy on the eyes, since "we" could barely understand a word they say.
Seth got some flak for that in America, but they appreciate him here in China. According to Still and Always My Favorite Newspaper™, the China Daily, the country's foreign minister, Yang Jiechi, had this exchange with a French reporter at his news conference yesterday. Here's how the story looks, with details below:
Foreign reporters flaunt their Mandarin skills Caroline Puel, French magazine Le Point correspondent in Beijing, was surprised twice on Saturday at the press conference with China's Foreign Minister Yang Jiechi.
Besides getting a chance to ask a question out of the hundreds of reporters at the scene, Puel also got high marks from Yang for her Chinese.
"Your Chinese is so good I can understand your question without asking you to repeat it", Yang told her with a big smile.
Yes, I did notice the "with a big smile" touch; and this story caught my eye mainly because I find it droll. At the same time, I am trying to imagine the counterpart in America: a Secretary of State Clinton or Kerry hearing a question from a German or Japanese reporter and, before answering, noting that the questioner's English is "so good" that it can actually be understood. It's another little marker on the long road of China's developing a sense of ease as an international presence and power.
Bonus Favorite Newspaper™ Detail. Here's today's front page:
Yeah, I could go for some of those cyber rules myself. This morning all of my normal VPNs appear to be blocked, and I am filing this by working out some rococo routing to the Atlantic's corporate VPN, which is not really designed for this sort of international intrigue. The accompanying story is actually worth reading for the Chinese perspective on the ongoing cyber wars. For instance this detail, which is how the situation is often described from the Chinese point of view:
Cyber security has become an increasingly prominent issue as security threats in a peaceful era, and seems another way for Western powers to apply pressure to contain China's rise, they [various Chinese officials] say.
Wen Weiping, a professor at the School of Software and Microelectronics at Peking University, put forward his explanation on the belligerence.
The US believes it is justified to launch military attacks on any country that launches cyber attacks threatening its cyber space, he said, and it must raise a fuss against such alleged attacks to build up a case. Wen said the US also aims to strengthen its cyber security forces as a deterrent and maintain its advantage during the information war.
Here's a fun talker for you right in time for Valentine's Day. Want to make the opposite sex swoon? Forget good looks or a charming personality. A new international survey reveals if you want to light libidos on fire, learn to "parle francai"s or "habla espanol" - speak another language!
The international survey of more than 5,000 men and women (1300 Americans) reveals if you speak a different language: • 79% find you more attractive • 77% rate you as more intelligent
Also, it turns out the French tongue isn't only famous for kissing.
HOTTEST LANGUAGES OF LOVE The survey reveals: • French is the #1 Sexiest Language, (chosen by 41%) • #2 Italian (chosen by 16%) • #3 Spanish (chosen by 15%)
Chill dudes. We Americans still have some swag. English ranked #4th sexiest language (chosen by 10%). And so much for Gangnam style. The Korean language came in dead last - the least sexy language....
When people polled were asked the top pick-up line they'd like to hear or say in another language the top choices are:
#1 "Where have you been all my life?" or in French "Où as-tu été toute ma vie?" #2 "Can I get you a drink?" or in Italian "Ti posso offrire da bere?" #3 "I lost my phone number. Can I have yours?" Or in Spanish "¿Perdí mi número de teléfono, me podrías dar el tuyo?"
The company conducting the survey asks to be credited with its results, and you can find them easily if you search. As well as capsule bios of some of your prospective teachers:
My wife speaks more languages than anyone else I know, so according to this survey that must be why I've always found her not only "more attractive" but also "more intelligent." In retrospect it's a good thing I said to her on our first date, "Où as-tu été toute ma vie?"
1) Why do I quote these things? A basic rule of life for reporters is that you should spend your time talking with and learning about people who are not sending you press releases, rather than those who are. But when I see each day's crop of these entreaties, I marvel anew at the infinity of startup activity that is the modern economy. And having written pitch letters myself over the years, I feel a kind of grizzled-veteran solidarity with the people trying so hard to get someone else's attention.
Plus, "the exuberant face and biceps" of German, among many other touches.... You have to admire this kind of effort.
2) Why do I blank out the teachers' names, and that of the company, when you can easily find them for yourself? It seems a little unfair to the teachers, including the "modern day Queen of the Nile" and the "gem of the Orient," to expose them in a way they weren't expecting, and in reality most people won't bother to track them down. But if you're curious enough, you can find out more. Maybe even learn the Language of Love.
UPDATE About that "exuberant face and biceps," a reader in the US writes:
James, we German speakers all figure out that German is a favorite foreign language for gay men here.
I don't know why it works out that way, but I've noticed that for many years.
Maybe a reporter could figure it out?
Maybe so. In the meantime, the capsule bio of the German teacher is worth re-reading in that light.
So many things to catch up on. I'll start with an easy one, a linguistic point.
I mentioned earlier that I dislike expressing generalized greetings for "the holidays" and prefer to mention each specific festival as it arises. Happy Hanukkah! Merry Christmas! Happy Hari Raya! Happy Buddha's Birthday! And on through the busy calendar. Based on my time in Malaysia, where members of the varied ethnic groups would all recognize the others' holidays, I don't worry about ethnic-profiling the people I'm greeting. It's Happy Chinese New Year to one and all at the appropriate time; Happy Fourth of July to all comers on that day, including (especially!) to Brits.
But now I learn that on this point, as on so many others, the superficially-American-seeming society of Australia has a different approach that has prompted me to re-examine my assumptions. To review a few I've mentioned before: Australia's mandatory-voting laws put America's widespread voter-suppression policies in a sharper and even less favorable light; its term limits for its counterpart to the Supreme Court avoid many of the distortions of our judicial gerontocracy; its combination of very high minimum wage, and a no-tipping culture, is part of an egalitarian, "thick middle class" feel to society that seems a quaint memory in America. And so on through a long list, notably including what they call "Medicare." It's what our Medicare would be, if it had no age limits.
And now the linguistic point. I wrote to some associates in Melbourne yesterday and got this robo-reply:
Thank you for your email. I am currently away on annual leave for the festive season and will be returning on Monday 7 January 2013.
I shall respond to your email upon my return.
I shall consider adopting this practice myself. Retrospective wishes on the Festive Season just past, and early greetings on the one to come at the end of this year.
(Apparently I'm not the first one to notice this locution. Image from here.)
This is interesting. If you looked at the inside pages of the Wall Street Journal today, you saw a valuable story from China about the challenges facing an Apple subcontractor called Hon Hai Precision Industry. And in case you missed the name, I've highlighted the 20-odd places where Hon Hai is used in the story plus accompanying map and captions.
Now you might be thinking: Oh, no! Another Chinese company whose name I have to remember and that I have to care about. Calm down. As people who operate in China know, and as one "by the way" clause in the story points out, Hon Hai Precision Industry is none other than our old friend .... Foxconn.
From the start Foxconn, like a number of other Asian-based companies, has operated under an assortment of names:
Foxconn, the name you have come to know and love;
Hon Hai, its "real" name, written as 鸿海 in the simplified Chinese characters used in the mainland and 鴻海 in the traditional characters used in the company's home base of Taiwan;
富士康, or Fushikang [approx 'Foxconn'], which is what the Chinese characters over its factory gates say.
To me this is interesting, as opposed to "mattering" in any heavy-weather way. The interest is that someone at the Journal has apparently decided that the paper is going to tough-love its readership into using proper Chinese names for foreign companies -- at the obvious expense of short- and medium-term comprehensibility. That is: if you were scanning the paper for news about Foxconn and saw a map with "Hon Hai Production Sites," odds are that for most Americans the synapses wouldn't fire.
Not long ago, the Journal was making the opposite trade-off between comprehensibility and linguistic fidelity. For instance in September:
The accompanying video, full of interesting insights about changing labor conditions in China, refers to "Foxconn" as consistently as today's story talks about "Hon Hai." FWIW.
A different level of interest lies in two quotes in today's story from Louis Woo, an official of 鸿海 / 富士康 who plays a major role in my current story that is part of our cover package (subscribe! *). One of his comments is about the importance of speed, rather than rock-bottom production cost, as the forcing factor in where and how the world's work is done. He says:
Introducing robots into the production of many consumer electronics would be inefficient because of their short production cycles, said Hon Hai spokesman Louis Woo. "By the time you are familiar or stabilize the process it is already the end of the product [manufacturing cycle]. Then there is another product coming up," he said.
The other is Woo's comment about changes in the work force like those I observed and reported on in my latest trip to southern China:
"The younger generation of workers these days, they don't want to continue to do boring, mundane, repetitive work, especially in the manufacturing sector," he said. "We have to begin to add more value in the process, otherwise it will be difficult to attract a young generation of workers."
Again, I am noting-for-the-record this aspect of the Journal's story, rather than complaining about it. I am thinking, though, that I need to change the title of my own article. Obviously the updated version should be: "Mr. Zhongguo Comes to America."
* Yes, yes, this is my own little joke. But I've learned recently that it's more than a joke. Actual paid subscriptions, both the "real" magazine and the soon-to-be-remarkably-improved iPad version, remain a quite significant part of our revenue. So, it's the holiday season! Give early and often. And thanks to the many people who've written in saying that they subscribe.