My work colleague Tyler posted this comment on (our internal) Google Buzz
the other day:
A sign in [the cafe] proclaimed a table to be “REVERVED.” Seriously?
Another colleague, Aaron, wrote:
Reserved for someone revered? Or just verved multiple times?
It’s almost like reserved, reversed!
Perhaps. It was reserved, but now it’s not, so the situation, one might say, has been reverved.
Then I contributed this:
A sign on a table, “Reverve”
Was written by someone with nerve
Was the writer just spelling-averse?
Or did they intend we’d converse
On the subjects “reverse” and “revere”
While away from our jobs we would veer?
Well, no more! I do hereby aver
I’m done with “reverve” fore-ver
and finally, Helen sent this link:
For a few months after we had a son and named him Jonah, my dad occasionally called him Noah by mistake. Surprisingly, he wasn’t the only one. A few other people have made that mistake over the years. His great grandmother still does it from time to time.
In 2008 I had a job interview with a software engineer named Jonah. I mentioned that it was also the name of my son. He said, “For some reason, no one can remember the name Jonah. They always call me Noah.”
Today I learned of the existence of Noah and the Whale, a London pop-music band. (Their song, “5 Years Time,” came up on my Pandora station, and it’s a good one.) Their name is a play on the story of Jonah and the whale.
It’s true that Jonah and Noah are both biblical boy’s names, and that one is an anagram of 80% of the other’s letters. But why are they easier to confuse than, say, Caleb and Abel?