I Laid an Egg on Aunt Ruth's Head: Conquering English and Its Ruthless Ways

Joel Schnoor combines a love of language with an easy going conversational style, resulting in work that has been compared to Thurber and Wodehouse.  His style might best be summed up as wholesome humor without the biting sarcasm.

Joel and his wife live in North Carolina, where they are homeschooling their four kids.  In addition to being a husband and an involved father of four, Joel is an active member of his church, a tuba player, and a football coach.  He loves God, his family, writing, Nebraska football, and chocolate.

"So where were you going, my dear aunt?" I inquired.

"Oh, the store down the street is giving away kites for free."

"For free?  You don't have to join a club or give them your address or anything?"

"For free.  The sign said, 'No strings attached.'"

"How can you fly a kite without any string?  You need string to fly a kite.  At any rate, I was going to head to that store too."

"Oh good," said Aunt Ruth.  "Can I accompany you?"

"I don't know.  Can you?"

"Wait, I'm asking you.”

"Aunt Ruth, do you know how to use 'can' and 'may' in a sentence?"

"Sure.  Listen to this.  I ate a can of beans last May."

"No, not that kind of can and not that kind of may."

"Oh, how's this?  May day, may day, the pilot is stuck in the can and I need someone to tell me how to land this plane."

"Wow," I remarked.  "But no, that's not what I meant either."

"Then what did you mean, my dear but aggravating nephew?" she asked.

"Well, it's like this," I began.  "It was a dark and stormy night."

"Oh good, I love your stories," she said, breaking into a big smile.  "First, can I go make some popcorn?"

"May I?" I corrected her.

"Sure, be my guest," she said, plopping down into her favorite comfy chair.

"No, I mean, you said, 'Can I,' and you should have said, 'May I,' in that sentence."

"Why, oh Gargoyle of Grammar?"  She was now frowning.

"Well, it's like this.  The word can is generally used to describe the ability to do something.  I can make the best grilled cheese sandwiches ever.  I can wiggle my ears.  I can think of a word that rhymes with orange."

She sat there staring at me, motionless.

"Aunt Ruth?" I asked.  "Are you okay?"

She paused another moment before responding, "Oh, I was just going into one of those catatonic states.  It always happens when you try to explain things to me.  Besides, the last time you made grilled cheese sandwiches for me, you burned them.  I had to scrape off all the black stuff.  And you forgot to take the plastic wrap off the slice of cheese."

I thought for a moment.  "They wrap those things in plastic?" I asked.  "No wonder I've always thought they were chewy.  Anyway, may I continue?"

"I think I'd rather try that water torture thing."

"This will be quick."

"The only thing you can do quickly is to list all of your good qualities."

I ignored that comment and continued.  "The word may is generally used to ask permission to do something or to describe the possibility of something happening.  May I shove bamboo shoots under your finger nails; it may rain tomorrow; if you mention me in your will, I may promise to never sing for you again."

"Mister, you got yourself a deal," she exclaimed.

"Okay Aunt Ruth, so do you think you've got it?"

"May I try?" she asked proudly.

"Yes you may," I agreed.

"I can paddle a canoe and I can dance the can-can too; I may want to cross the street or I may just stay home and eat.  I can outrun a black bear and I may buy some underwear; I may want to sleep in late or I can find someone to date."

"Can you?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes I can," she declared.  "Further, I can kick a board in half and I can wrestle with a calf; I may jump out of a plane or I may take the train in Spain; I can count to ten in French and I can work a crescent wrench; I may eat some Gouda cheese or I may fly a kite in breeze."

"Hey!" I exclaimed.  "May I fly a kite with you?"

"Hey!" she exclaimed.  "We can only fly a kite if we get a kite with string attached."