CARLTON FLETCHER: Sorry, Coach Lowe, cussing is becoming today’s norm

Papa didn’t cuss, didn’t raise a whole lot of fuss. But when we did wrong, Papa beat the hell out of us.

— James Brown

Because I came to Albany as a sports writer — a long time ago, I might add — I’ve always known who Graham Lowe is. I didn’t know him personally until recently, but I knew him by reputation, both on the athletic fields of play and off.

I say that to set up this true story: Coach Lowe and his lovely wife were in my wife’s business several months ago to get his computer repaired when I dropped in. After being introduced and exchanging pleasantries, he surprised me by calling me to the side.

“Carlton, I really like your writing,” he said, and as you might imagine, my hat size ballooned. “I think you have all the talent in the world (head expansion continues). But I wonder if you have to include those cuss words you use sometimes in the columns that you write (sssssss … air leaking out).”

And you know what? Because this man of such stellar reputation suggested that I didn’t need the occasional swear word that I’d used “for emphasis” — and try basing your explanation on such a flimsy excuse to a man like Graham Lowe — I pretty much quit doing it. Each time I started typing one of those choice words into a column I was writing, I would remember Coach Lowe’s admonition. And way more often than not, I’d leave the word out.

Anyone who knew me growing up — a Baptist-raised, respectful, son of the South whose parents never resorted to vulgarity — would tell you that to suggest that I would even contemplate using cuss words in a public forum like this was ludicrous. Just imagining that a lady might be aware of me using profanity was beyond my comprehension.

Those who’ve known me the last several years will wonder at that last paragraph. Unfortunately, they know me as something of a vulgarian. Truth be told, I’m still a little miffed at myself when I let choice words fly because I was, after all, raised differently.

My only defense: This business has a way of changing you.

I’ll never forget when I first came to work at The Herald after working for more than a decade at newspapers in Ocilla, my hometown, and Tifton. Now, I’d certainly extended my vocabulary to include a few choice swear words during my time at both The Ocilla Star and The Tifton Gazette. But they didn’t prepare me for what I would encounter in this newspaper’s hallowed newsroom.

In addition to working for grizzled newspaper veterans whose vocabulary grew bluer the closer to deadline we got each day, I also realized quite quickly that no one was immune to those same pressures. The lull of a busy newsroom filled with little more than the sound of the occasional telephone ringing and the clacking of computer keyboards was shattered one day by a stream of vulgarity that would have stopped an Eminem-loving trucker in his tracks.

I was stunned at first, so much so it didn’t really hit me that the person who was spewing this impressive outpouring of invective was a lady. I peeked around the corner of my cubicle and was stunned to see this dainty co-worker of mine — someone I would come to admire more than all but a handful of people I ever met in the business — letting loose with the last of her tirade. I have to admit, I was more than a little frightened.

I got to thinking about that monumental outburst the other day, and thinking about Coach Graham Lowe as well, when I overheard a young man, in what appeared to be a casual conversation, use the f-, c-, n- and s- words, as well as the granddaddy 12-lettered m-word, multiple times. The kid looked to be about 14, and he was talking to a couple of girls who looked no older than he was.

That he used the language so casually told me that he wasn’t, as boys from my day were apt to do, just showing off his cussing skills. With music, movies, video games and even primetime TV shows dropping more and more bad language so casually in the name of “realism,” it’s no wonder kids today don’t even flinch when confronted with the vilest profanity imaginable.

And while Coach Lowe would never say it, I’m sure even he would agree that the erosion of civility and the cheapening of language among modern-day youngsters and young adults is, well, a damned shame.

Email Carlton Fletcher at [email protected].