A Rose

Circa 1960, my sister and I buried a time capsule in our backyard.  I can’t remember what we put in it, or exactly where we buried it.  But it doesn’t matter since we dug it up again a couple of months later—I can’t remember whether it was on purpose or whether it was accidentally unearthed when we buried Lizzy the Lizard.  I do recall that we enjoyed picking out things to go into the shoebox and felt a little bit like NASA sending a capsule out to communicate to possible life forms across the galaxy.

A little bit like writing a blog. 

Descartes said “Cogito ergo sum"--  in English “I think therefore I am.”

Well, Scripsi ergo erat  (I wrote therefore I was.)  I made this up, I think.  At least I never heard of anyone else who said this.  One could posit that this is a variant of “Kilgore was here.”  In any case, I cannot be accused of plagiarism since it is only three Latin words.

Which brings me, circuitously, to the topic of this post: Plagiarism, a cardinal literary sin.  When you write, you can fantasize, lie, blaspheme, opine, insult, etc., as long as you don’t copy someone. 

Melania Trump’s speech at the RNC contained passages that qualify as plagiarism.  Not that many identical words, but enough to fulfill the quota, and when you put the video of her speech next to one of Michelle Obama, the resemblance is unmistakable. 

Whether Mrs. Trump knew the source or not, whether she was cognizant of plagiarism rules or not, she recognized the truth and beauty of the words.  And when she spoke them, it resonated with the crowd.  Ironically, it would not have been plagiarism if she had just added a few more words, citing the source.  But imagine how different the audience reaction would have been if she had attributed anything positive to the wife of President Obama.

I find this to be very sad.  A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.  (I’m not plagiarizing, William.  Only 10 words.)