#Idiom: Stick-in-the-Mud/Fuddy-Duddy/Old Fogey

My blog post last week was about a difficult subject, the American Civil War. I decided to write about a less serious topic today.

I was driving to one of my favorite places (the public library) recently, when the expression “stick-in-the-mud” flew into my head out of nowhere. I don’t have a clue what brought that on unless it was all the rain we’d had that week and our yard had turned into a sea of mud. Who knows how the human brain works?

When I got home, I thought: blog post! My research led me to idioms meaning essentially the same thing as stick-in-the-mud. Those others are “fuddy-duddy” and “old fogey.”

stick-in-the-mud
Photo credit: Annie Spratt on unsplash.com

When were they first used?

One source says “stick-in-the-mud” was used as early as 1700, while Merriam-Webster attributes

it’s advent to 1832. English Through the Ages, by William Brohaugh says 1735.

Merriam-Webster says “fuddy-duddy” originated in 1904, while William Brohaugh’s book says

it came into general usage in 1905.

Merriam-Webster says “fogey” dates back to 1780. William Brohaugh agrees.

What does it mean?

All three of these idioms are colorful ways to insult someone for being old-fashioned, stuck in their ways, slow to accept change, etc.

Some examples of how the idiom is used

Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud!

Don’t be a fuddy-duddy!

Get with the program. You’re being a stick-in-the-mud.

As language loses its color

#stick-in-the-mud
Photo credit: Joseph J. Cotten on unsplash.com

I’m sad to report that “fuddy-duddy,” “fogey,” and “old fogey” did not make the cut when The American Heritage Dictionary of Idioms, by Christine Ammer was published in 1997. I guess that means I’m a fuddy-duddy and an old fogey for even including those expressions in today’s blog.

It’s idioms like “stick in the mud” that make the English language interesting. A synonym for it is “antediluvian,” but I much prefer “stick-in-the-mud.” Don’t you?

A question for multilinguals

For those of you who are fluent in languages other than English, do you know of a colorful idiom for antediluvian in another language?

A question for my friends and relatives

Are people calling me a stick-in-the-mud, a fuddy-duddy, or an old fogey behind my back? I hope not!

Since my last blog post

The spring weather has been beautiful! Our yard is ablaze with azalea blossoms and irises. I enjoyed doing a little yardwork, and I have stiff joints now to prove it. I also have poison oak on my face and arm to prove it, although I thought I was being careful to avoid it.

Until my next blog post

If you’re new to my blog, you might like to read my earlier posts about idioms: #Idioms: Reading the Riot Act on January 25, 2021, and #Idioms: As All Get Out on March 29, 2021.

I hope you have a good book to read. I’m listening to The Lost Girls of Paris, by Pam Jenoff, and I’m reading The Good Sister, by Sally Hepworth.

I hope you have time for a hobby this week.

I hope the Covid-19 pandemic is getting under control where you live.

Janet

Writing talents from my mother

I’d like to think I inherited my writing talent from my mother, but she set the bar high. Today would have been her 104th birthday.

My mother was one of 10 children. She was the third youngest. She grew up on a farm in Mecklenburg County, North Carolina, attended first grade a one-room school where all 11 grades were taught in one room.  When she graduated valedictorian of a consolidated high school in Charlotte, some of her city classmates were displeased. How dare a farm girl make the highest grades in the class! She went on to major in French and English at what is now the University of North Carolina at Greensboro during the Great Depression. After graduating, she taught French and English on the high school level for five years (also during the Great Depression, being paid $70.00 per month) until her marriage and second career as a homemaker and mother.

Growing up with an English teacher for a mother can be frustrating at times. Such a child is not allowed to make grammatical errors, even in jest. Such a child is taught from birth to use the correct verb tense. You might say the use of an incorrect verb tense was my mother’s pet peeve. By her example, I grew up ever-vigilant in catching grammatical errors I heard on TV or read in a newspaper. Although my mother died more than two decades ago, I still think of her and cringe  every time I hear an error by someone on TV who “should know better” or read a mistake in a news article written by someone who “should know better.” It wasn’t until I became an adult that I appreciated what my mother did for me. It wasn’t until I tried to become a writer that I became painfully aware that I should have paid more attention to punctuation in English class.

My mother loved teaching and late in her life she wrote and self-published a history of the first 100 years of organized women’s work in our church congregation. She even wrote a little play to accompany that 100-year milestone.

I was a young adult when she wrote that book, and I did not fully appreciate her accomplishments. For one thing, I just always took for granted what my mother did. I assumed all mothers could make doll clothes and some of their children’s clothing, even if they’d never had a sewing class. I assumed all mothers taught their toddlers to sing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” in two languages. I assumed all mothers knew how to make doll cakes for their daughters’ birthdays. I assumed all mothers could teach themselves how to knit and crochet. I assumed any mother could write a book. Wasn’t that just what all mothers did?

It wasn’t until I reached my 40s and she was gone that I realized just how gifted my mother was. I’ve had sewing and quilting lessons, but I still struggle to darn a sock or sew on a button — things she did with ease. I can make a cake and ice it, but it would take me all day to make a doll cake and it wouldn’t be as elaborate and pretty as the ones she made. It wasn’t until I took a fiction writing course at Queens University of Charlotte in 2001 and started writing short stories and longer fiction that I realized that writing is hard work. My mother made all these and a host of other things look simple. I’m 63 years old and I still can’t get all the components of a meal ready on time or at the same time.

Mama, how in the world did you do it?