After calling ahead to make an advance reservation, I recently had a date night — an established tradition — with my lovely wife, whom I consider my close confidant. I still retain the same level of adoration for her from our relationship’s original beginnings in 2000.
On that note, when we first began dating two decades ago, the way we interacted together on our date nights in our historical past varied significantly from the ones nowadays. I suppose when you combine together different friends, professional careers and “those people who live down the hall” (i.e., our children), these things tend to happen.
And when it comes to the latter folks I mentioned, I can assure you, they’re not young babies anymore. But as their parents, we recognize their future potential may be unlimited. So my wife and I came to a consensus of opinion to try our hardest to mutually cooperate in their upbringing. Sometimes it’s challenging but rewarding; and if we could employ a small village to help, we would.
But as I had mentioned previously, my wife and I have a bit of past history together. I think 20 years of marriage is a major milestone. I believe we can both agree. My love for her still continues, even as we’ve relocated elsewhere over the years. (We’re still waiting to build a new house, though.)
But I digress; let’s get back to the restaurant.
While I perused the menu, I anxiously hoped we both didn’t order the exact same thing. But as I read each dish’s description, I couldn’t help but stare and fixate upon a specific item: jumbo shrimp. I thought it would be sound logic to order it. As I asked around the dining area, lo and behold, eyewitnesses at the scene agreed with me. (It was hard not to notice the jumbo shrimp dishes that had completely surrounded our table in close proximity.) Shortly after ordering, our waiter learned it was our anniversary, and we were excited to be bestowed with a free gift at the end of our meal.
Being the savvy copy editor I am, I thought, “Ah, redundance strikes again. But it’s just a menu. I suppose it’s adequate enough.”
I assure you this story is non-fiction, as I have a well-known reputation for stating true facts to uphold. The sum total of this is immense. Sure, I may have accidentally misfired a few times. But who hasn’t? I’m sure military troops have. I may be incorrect, but it’s my own personal belief that it’s an old adage. But I don’t really know what the current status is. (If I’m wrong, I hope not to be exiled abroad!)
Although somewhat brief, I certainly hope you find my tale sufficient enough. I also hope it reaches you as a bit of an unexpected surprise. If you couldn’t ascertain, the underlying premise of this writing exercise is to highlight examples of the redundant terminology I often encounter. I didn’t want it to get too lengthy; it’s not like I set out to craft a little booklet. (But if I did, and you happened to live in Canada, I promise the copy I’d export past my borders had my personal autograph on it.) And while it may not be the single most challenging aspect of my position, I can only hope we can unite together to eliminate these phrases from the future prospects of our professional writing endeavors.