My college composition students and I share a problem: How to use commas in a consistently correct way. Of all marks of punctuation, it is the one most subject to personal interpretation. Even though I’ve taught writing for many years, and have gone around for decades telling folks I am a writer, commas still confuse me.
But not knowing that, my students don’t question my comma use explanations. Recently, I told them commas should set off expressions that interrupt normal sentence structure, as is the case with direct address. After explaining what I meant, I said, “In this university town, you see a violation of the direct address rule every day. The person who can identify this violation will earn twenty bonus points.”
In my classes, bonus points are like manna from Heaven, but try as they might, no student could provide the answer, so I gave them a hint by writing “Go West” on the board, which elicited not the slightest ripple of recognition.
Finally, one student speculated, “Those words can be considered a command, so nothing is needed except punctuation at the end.”
“Excellent observation,” I said, “but what if West is not a direction, but a person’s name? Immediately the student said, “Then it’s direct address, and the words “Go” and “West” should be separated by a comma.”
“Bingo! Now tell me what violation of the direct address rule you see daily in this town.” No one even ventured a guess.
Realizing that the students were hopelessly stumped, I got a collective groan after writing on the board: “Go Rebels” should be “Go, Rebels!”
That night, after I knelt and gave thanks for the day’s blessings, I began the usual long list of supplications to my Maker: Please, God, be with me tomorrow when I enter my classrooms; Please, God, protect me from illness; please, God, do this for me; please, God, do that for me; on and on.
Lying in bed, staring into darkness, I pondered the fact that I spend much more prayer time asking than I do thanking, and I wondered … does the Lord get weary of my endless list of requests?
I’m not a material person, which is a good thing, because my income allows for a lifestyle only slightly above the poverty line. Even so, many of my orisons to the Almighty enumerate wants instead of needs.
Yes, I want a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, but, no, I don’t need a Harley-Davidson. Yes, I want a bass boat, but, no, I don’t need one, so why do I keep asking Him to help me get one? Yes, I want a Beretta over-and-under shotgun, but why? The shotgun I’ve had since boyhood is deadly, when aimed accurately.
Then I realized that whether the things people wish for are wants or needs, they are more likely to get them if they focus less on direct address — Please, God — and more on accomplishing the message of those two words with no comma between them: Please God.
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
