behooved past tense; behooved past participle; behooves 3rd person singular present; behooving present participle
It is a duty or responsibility for someone to do something; it is incumbent on
It behooves any coach to study his predecessors
It is appropriate or suitable; it befits
It ill behooves the opposition constantly to decry the sale of arms to friendly countries
I have been friends with Nancy Meadows since the early 1990’s. We used to work together and as the years have passed; our friendship blossomed into the most delightful of relationships. Nancy and I have that female bond where we can, and do, discuss everything. Nancy is my sounding board, and a good one at that.
When Jim and I married, Nancy stood up for me. Nancy’s husband Dale and Jim became very good friends and I have always felt blessed that Nancy and Dale had the opportunity to meet Jim and share time in our life together.
So, this past weekend, Nancy headed to Myrtle Beach with me for my half marathon. I had planned the trip many months ago and asked Nancy if she wouldn’t mind spending the four days with me so that I didn’t have to drive all the way there on my own and knock about by myself. As good friends do, she agreed to the trip. I was very happy, because I’d have some good girl time with Nancy.
My girl time with Nancy is usually relegated to the “Survivor” night. I used to spend Thursday nights hanging with Nancy and cussing out the participants on Survivor. This year, Survivor has moved to Wednesday and I miss a night now and again when I have tickets to the Kennedy Center.
What really behooved me to write this blog was a quick discussion early on Saturday morning before my Sunday run in Myrtle Beach. Nancy and I woke up and she turned on the local news station and I plumped my pillow to catch a few more zzzzz’s. Nancy roused me and asked if I’d hear the young female reporter, having not, Nancy explained that the reporter was talking about a cache of weapons that had been found and pronounced the word as cachet. We laughed because we have many stories of “wordage” and I rolled over and plumped my pillow again for another quick 15 minutes of sleep before seizing the day. Nancy then said to me, “Hurricane season ends on November 1st.” I mumbled that it doesn’t, it ends December 1st, 6 months June 1st to December 1st. Nancy then said, “Well the news reporter just said it ends November 1st.” and I pointed out she also mispronounced cache, and with the laughter that ensued I decided to get out of bed.
Many years ago, when Nancy and I worked together we would lunch with another friend Deb W. We were a fairly regular lunch crew. This brings me to the topic of this blog. Behoove. Behoove is a word I have used often enough. I don’t know when I first heard it or first started using it. I have always liked “big” words, “college” words as my friends say. Nancy too has a very “large” vocabulary. We often laugh at each other when we use a “big” word and poke fun at ourselves, especially since it behooves us to do so.
We three girls were having lunch one afternoon, and Deb W. was regaling us with some event of the day and she used a sentence that made both Nancy and I blanch. Literally, we cocked our eyebrow at each other and allowed Deb to continue. Deb had used “behooved.” Deb had used it in such a crazy manner that to this day Nancy and I cannot recall the actual sentence she used it in. Suffice to say, it was wrong. It was like nails on a chalkboard to us two wordsmiths.
The sentence went something like this, “I behooved my groceries in the trunk of the car and the cart hit my door.” Or perhaps she said, “As I was behooving my groceries”, or maybe she said, “My groceries were behooved in the trunk.”
So, you get the picture. It was so abstract that I can’t make up a sentence, because I know the meaning of the word.
Needless to say, Nancy and I had a moment a few days later to discuss the obvious misuse, chuckled and let it go until our next lunch with Deb. Holy Cow! Deb loved her some new word. She was throwing ‘behoove” into every sentence and she was using it with some meaning only she knew. It was amazingly crazy.
Then, Nancy and I felt bad. We knew we could never correct her because we had not corrected her from the start and we had allowed her misuse of the word. Dear Jesus, it would have behooved us to nip it in the bud the first time she used it around us. She was off to the races. She behooved here, there, and everywhere. Nancy and I could in no way determine what she thought it meant. We couldn’t seem to figure how it worked into any sentence. It had a life of its own.
She had sentences like, “Behoove me but I was here first. HUH? She was, “Behooving at the MVA the other day.” What did she mean? Was it code for something? I needed a decoder ring. And Nancy and I felt like bad friends because we had not unbehooved her in the first place.
We have lost touch with Deb, but the “behoove” has taken on a life of it’s own. Nancy and I do not spend one visit together that we don’t use behoove, because we can, and we know the meaning. It has become our private chuckle.
In fact, traveling to Myrtle Beach this weekend Nancy found an opportunity to throw out the word and we were off to the races. We have discussed time and time again Deb’s use of the word. At times it was a noun, a verb, or an adjective. It had past and present tense and it had the wrong meaning. We still cannot recall the first sentence that started us off on the path to behoovedom, but it has been a merry trip.
Because of the misbehoovement, Nancy and I have been very cognizant of our words and often point out if one of us has misused a word. It has been an unspoken agreement to each other that we’d not allow use of a word improperly so that we could never correct it later.
As Nancy and I were heading to the beach, Nancy was discussing a sewing project she is undertaking. She is completing a counted cross-stitch sampler. She mentioned that it is an easy to follow pattern because it has a large graft. Graft? Did Nancy just say graft? Well, I sat for a minute or two and looked at my best friend and asked, “Did you say graph or graft? “ It behooved me to ask. I couldn’t not ask. What if she had used the word incorrectly? I’d have another cross to bear by not speaking up. Another behoovepredicament. Nancy assured me she used graph and that my ears need cleaning. Phew. So glad I asked.
Nancy and I have had many a good laugh over the years. Not at our friend, but at the humor of the situation. One slip of the tongue and a misuse of the word behoove has provided much dialogue and enjoyment for the two of us. Nothing thrills us more than to be curled up on the couch on girl’s night and hear the word used on the television. We start all over, trying time and time again to remember the famous sentence and how the word was inserted so improperly. One night, we might behooving it and be excited that we did.
While I was living in Tampa, Nancy and I were on the phone and she used the word deciduous. I had never heard the word and we had a long discussion and she explained that it means trees that lose their leaves seasonally. So, now Nancy has a word to throw my way, but I don’t think I’ve used it improperly. But, if I have, please Mr. Webster, I beg you to forgive me. It behooves you to forgive me; I’ve suffered enough with the guilt of not unbehooving Deb.
I have been friends with Nancy Meadows since the early 1990’s. We used to work together and as the years have passed; our friendship blossomed into the most delightful of relationships. Nancy and I have that female bond where we can, and do, discuss everything. Nancy is my sounding board, and a good one at that.
When Jim and I married, Nancy stood up for me. Nancy’s husband Dale and Jim became very good friends and I have always felt blessed that Nancy and Dale had the opportunity to meet Jim and share time in our life together.
So, this past weekend, Nancy headed to Myrtle Beach with me for my half marathon. I had planned the trip many months ago and asked Nancy if she wouldn’t mind spending the four days with me so that I didn’t have to drive all the way there on my own and knock about by myself. As good friends do, she agreed to the trip. I was very happy, because I’d have some good girl time with Nancy.
My girl time with Nancy is usually relegated to the “Survivor” night. I used to spend Thursday nights hanging with Nancy and cussing out the participants on Survivor. This year, Survivor has moved to Wednesday and I miss a night now and again when I have tickets to the Kennedy Center.
What really behooved me to write this blog was a quick discussion early on Saturday morning before my Sunday run in Myrtle Beach. Nancy and I woke up and she turned on the local news station and I plumped my pillow to catch a few more zzzzz’s. Nancy roused me and asked if I’d hear the young female reporter, having not, Nancy explained that the reporter was talking about a cache of weapons that had been found and pronounced the word as cachet. We laughed because we have many stories of “wordage” and I rolled over and plumped my pillow again for another quick 15 minutes of sleep before seizing the day. Nancy then said to me, “Hurricane season ends on November 1st.” I mumbled that it doesn’t, it ends December 1st, 6 months June 1st to December 1st. Nancy then said, “Well the news reporter just said it ends November 1st.” and I pointed out she also mispronounced cache, and with the laughter that ensued I decided to get out of bed.
Many years ago, when Nancy and I worked together we would lunch with another friend Deb W. We were a fairly regular lunch crew. This brings me to the topic of this blog. Behoove. Behoove is a word I have used often enough. I don’t know when I first heard it or first started using it. I have always liked “big” words, “college” words as my friends say. Nancy too has a very “large” vocabulary. We often laugh at each other when we use a “big” word and poke fun at ourselves, especially since it behooves us to do so.
We three girls were having lunch one afternoon, and Deb W. was regaling us with some event of the day and she used a sentence that made both Nancy and I blanch. Literally, we cocked our eyebrow at each other and allowed Deb to continue. Deb had used “behooved.” Deb had used it in such a crazy manner that to this day Nancy and I cannot recall the actual sentence she used it in. Suffice to say, it was wrong. It was like nails on a chalkboard to us two wordsmiths.
The sentence went something like this, “I behooved my groceries in the trunk of the car and the cart hit my door.” Or perhaps she said, “As I was behooving my groceries”, or maybe she said, “My groceries were behooved in the trunk.”
So, you get the picture. It was so abstract that I can’t make up a sentence, because I know the meaning of the word.
Needless to say, Nancy and I had a moment a few days later to discuss the obvious misuse, chuckled and let it go until our next lunch with Deb. Holy Cow! Deb loved her some new word. She was throwing ‘behoove” into every sentence and she was using it with some meaning only she knew. It was amazingly crazy.
Then, Nancy and I felt bad. We knew we could never correct her because we had not corrected her from the start and we had allowed her misuse of the word. Dear Jesus, it would have behooved us to nip it in the bud the first time she used it around us. She was off to the races. She behooved here, there, and everywhere. Nancy and I could in no way determine what she thought it meant. We couldn’t seem to figure how it worked into any sentence. It had a life of its own.
She had sentences like, “Behoove me but I was here first. HUH? She was, “Behooving at the MVA the other day.” What did she mean? Was it code for something? I needed a decoder ring. And Nancy and I felt like bad friends because we had not unbehooved her in the first place.
We have lost touch with Deb, but the “behoove” has taken on a life of it’s own. Nancy and I do not spend one visit together that we don’t use behoove, because we can, and we know the meaning. It has become our private chuckle.
In fact, traveling to Myrtle Beach this weekend Nancy found an opportunity to throw out the word and we were off to the races. We have discussed time and time again Deb’s use of the word. At times it was a noun, a verb, or an adjective. It had past and present tense and it had the wrong meaning. We still cannot recall the first sentence that started us off on the path to behoovedom, but it has been a merry trip.
Because of the misbehoovement, Nancy and I have been very cognizant of our words and often point out if one of us has misused a word. It has been an unspoken agreement to each other that we’d not allow use of a word improperly so that we could never correct it later.
As Nancy and I were heading to the beach, Nancy was discussing a sewing project she is undertaking. She is completing a counted cross-stitch sampler. She mentioned that it is an easy to follow pattern because it has a large graft. Graft? Did Nancy just say graft? Well, I sat for a minute or two and looked at my best friend and asked, “Did you say graph or graft? “ It behooved me to ask. I couldn’t not ask. What if she had used the word incorrectly? I’d have another cross to bear by not speaking up. Another behoovepredicament. Nancy assured me she used graph and that my ears need cleaning. Phew. So glad I asked.
Nancy and I have had many a good laugh over the years. Not at our friend, but at the humor of the situation. One slip of the tongue and a misuse of the word behoove has provided much dialogue and enjoyment for the two of us. Nothing thrills us more than to be curled up on the couch on girl’s night and hear the word used on the television. We start all over, trying time and time again to remember the famous sentence and how the word was inserted so improperly. One night, we might behooving it and be excited that we did.
While I was living in Tampa, Nancy and I were on the phone and she used the word deciduous. I had never heard the word and we had a long discussion and she explained that it means trees that lose their leaves seasonally. So, now Nancy has a word to throw my way, but I don’t think I’ve used it improperly. But, if I have, please Mr. Webster, I beg you to forgive me. It behooves you to forgive me; I’ve suffered enough with the guilt of not unbehooving Deb.
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