Everything You EVER Wanted to Know About Commas, But Were Afraid to Ask

This is the most straight-forward explanation of commas you'll ever get. I originally wrote it for my students at Pulaski Technical College and have republished it here for my writing students at Lingua Espresso.

In the beginning, was the simple sentence with one subject and one verb, as in "He played basketball."

Later, came the compound sentence. This means that two complete sentences, each which can stand alone, are joined together with appropriate punctuation. Incomplete clauses cannot stand alone and are called fragments (in other words, "bits" of sentences). For example,

1. After it rained.
2. On top of the mountain.

Both of these are fragments. Sentence One is a fragment because it is a subordinate clause: it leaves you hanging. After it rained, what then? Sentence Two is a fragment because it is simply two prepositional phrases, and we know subjects and verbs aren't found in prepositional phrases. So to have a complete structure, you need to add a complete sentence with a subject and verb:

1. After it rained, we were soaking wet.
2. We were soaking wet after it rained.
3. On top of the mountain, we had a picnic.
4. We had a picnic on top of the mountain.

Around 25% of all commas are used to join introductory material such as subordinate clauses ("after it rained") and prepositional phrases ("on top of the mountain") to the beginning of a complete sentence. Notice there is no comma if that material falls at the end. Such sentences are called complex because they have one stand-alone and one subordinate clause/sentence.

Now, 50% of all commas are simply used to compound, to join two complete sentences together. If you don't use the proper punctuation to join two complete sentences together, you get a run-on sentence or its variant, the comma splice. For example:

1. I love to play basketball I really love to play football. (typical run-on)
2. I love to play basketball and I really love to play football. (typical run-on)
3. I love to play basketball, I really love to play football. (typical comma splice)

So what to do? Well, the easiest thing to do is to break them with a period:

• I love to play basketball. I really love to play football.

However, this can get quite choppy if you do it all the time. The second easiest thing to do is to divide them with a comma and a coordinating conjunction ("and", "but", "or", "for", "so", "nor", and "yet"):

• I love to play basketball, but I really love to play football.

Remember you can't have just the coordinating conjunction or just the comma: you must have both.

Other methods:

You can add a word to make one sentence a subordinate clause as in:

• love to play basketball while I really love to play football.

Or:

1. I love to play basketball; I really love to play football.
2. I love to play basketball: I really love to play football.

Both the semicolon and the colon are strong enough to separate two sentences on their own. However the thoughts must be closely related. You can't say:

• I love to play basketball; soup is good food.

Now, the most common marks of punctuation between two sentences will be the comma and coordinating conjunction or the semicolon. The colon is even stronger than the semicolon, and the dash is strongest of all and always used for rare dramatic emphasis, as in:

• I only fear one thing — that thing is death.

So, in sum, 25% of all commas are used with introductory phrases and clauses, while 50% are used with a coordinating conjunction between two complete sentences. So where is the other 25%? Spread out in diddly things like this:

1. We bought bread, butter, ham, and mustard. (commas with items in a series)
2. She was a smart, pretty, innocent person. (commas with multiple adjectives before a noun; if you can put the word "and" in and it make sense, you should put a comma.)
3. Hopefully, you'll learn your lesson (commas with introductory words).
4. I know, for example, that you are a liar (unrestrictive words or phrases dumped into a sentence; in other words, you can take out "for example" and the sentence will still make sense.)
5. My parents want me to be a doctor; however, I want to be a dentist (words like "however" and "therefore" used to divide two sentences require a semicolon before, and a comma after.)

Now, I hope this has helped. It is not hard, but it does require careful proofreading and the understanding of subjects, verbs, and complete sentences to get this right.

For My Old Ones

In a few weeks, my maternal grandmother, my last living grandparent, will be moving to an assisted living center in Little Rock, Arkansas. I spoke to her on the phone a few days ago, and found myself crying. For some reason, I have been full of grief about her move, and I have really not known why. Of course, I hate the fact that she has to go to live in two rooms and not with any family. I also think of how I would feel if this were my life; and when I'm especially lonely, that makes me terribly sad too. But most of all, I think perhaps I am missing all my old ones, all of my grandparents. As I get older, and the last of them prepares to leave this world, I think of all the love and safety they provided for me when I was a child and how much they meant to me.
So since I've been teaching my Lingua Espresso writing students about details and the five senses, I thought I'd write a bit about these four special people and what I remember about them most vividly.

When I think of Baber, my maternal grandfather, I think of that old yellow easy chair he loved so much. I think of bourbon on the rocks and the smell of Marlboro Reds that lingered in the vinyl of his green Ford LTD. I think of the way he used to take us out in the golf cart, letting us drive, and always parking in the shade "so that his little redhead didn't burn her fair skin." I remember how he watched the news late at night, and how he snored to wake the dead. I remember how he pushed us on the swings until the lightening bugs came out, and how he caught them for us while he sang "Church in the Wildwood" in his deep, low, rumbling voice.

When I think of Papaw, my paternal grandfather, I think of early breakfasts of perfectly crisp buttered toast, soft in the inside. I think of the red stool in the kitchen, and the way he taught us to eat on the porch steps and feed the squirrels. I think of afternoons on the lake, when he'd tie the boat to a tree just so I could enjoy a good fishing hole while he baited hook after hook. I think of his tight bear hugs, his toothpick, his ever-ready pocket-knife, and the way he was everyone's friend (unless they made him an enemy!) And I think of the way he had of always giving me a one-armed hug and introducing me to people by saying, "This is my baby: isn't she beautiful?"

Mamaw, my maternal grandmother, was a little "different" you might say, having regular conversations with God, his angels, and sometimes the Devil and his minions as well. She wasn't quite sane, but she still adored me, and for a child that is enough. I remember her with crazy stories, perfectly ironed dresses, Aqua-Net hairspray, Rosemilk hand lotion . . . (can you tell she liked to look nice?) I also remember her pink lipstick, her love of TicTacs, and the sight of her sitting in a rocking chair polishing and stacking 45 records on the record-player so we could hear Dolly Parton sing "Joline" and Paul McCartney sing "Sallie Gee." She loved sweets, and while she taught us to play dominoes, she fed us all the ice cream, candy, and cookies that we could hold.

When I think of Bebe, my maternal grandmother who is now moving, I think of the screened porch at twilight. I think of all the lovely flowers in her yard: blue hydrangea, yellow forsythia, pink azalea, and so many more. I think of hot baths and little red soaps shaped like roses. I think of the special Christmas cookies she had made for us, fine and perfect as paper cut-outs. I think of peanut-butter toast, neopolitan ice cream, and Hershey's Kisses in a crystal candy jar that defied silent sneaking. I think of all the times she ever took us swimming and gave us green plastic cups to scoop the little frogs up with. I think of the way she let me read, the books she gave me, and how she, more than anyone else, supported the education of a granddaughter that by all rights should have been married to a wealthy local boy instead of becoming a professor and trying to build her own unique life. And I never forget I was named for her because she never called me just "Lynna," always "Lynna Louise."

For some reason, every time I lost one of them, I decided in advance not to cry: but did anyway. At Baber's funeral, I remained quite stoic until the choir sang "Church in the Wildwood," and I promptly fell to pieces. The same with Papaw, except it was the sight of him laying in the casket with all my many girl cousins and sister keening and wailing around him that set me off. I was far away in a hotel room when Mamaw died, and after my sister called me, I sat in the bottom of a hot shower and cried like the world was ending. Now, I'm already crying as if the one remaining has already departed. I guess memories and tears are one of the last ways we can say "I love you."


For My Beloved Grandparents:

Harold Truman Baber (1911-1990)
Andrew Henry Dunn (1914-1995)
Macel Caphine Cross Dunn (1917-2003)

and

Frances Louise Spivey Baber (1920-Still With Me)

WWJD

Most of my Lingua Espresso students think of the United States as being one type of place, like one giant Los Angeles or New York City. I can understand this misconception, but due to the size of the US, as well as many other factors, this is basically very wrong. Let's take religion, for example.

Most of the religion practiced in the US is overwhelming Christian, but there is no place more Christian than the states that make up "The Bible Belt." The Bible Belt consists of all of the South-Eastern states, tapering off into the Southwest (west of Texas). Since I grew up in that region, it is very easy for me to contrast religious activity in that part of the country with the part where I live now (i.e. Washington state, the Pacific Northwest). In what we just call "The South," you will see a church on every corner. I once lived in a town of 1300 people in Arkansas, and there were SIX churches of different denominations. Life is still very bound up with church, and people sometimes go to services on Wednesday as well as Sunday. People from different churches, such as Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses, are known for going door to door handing out literature about God and the Holy Trinity (the Father (God), the Son (Jesus), and the Holy Spirit). I once worked with a woman from New Jersey would couldn't believe that school sports teams prayed to God for strength and protection before games. Finally, signs and posters with religious messages are everywhere, and you see a lot of bumper stickers on cars that say things like "Honk If You Love Jesus" and "WWJD: What Would Jesus Do?"

What you'll observe in Washington state is almost completely opposite. There are churches, but they do not typically "advertise." I did pass one church in Ballard that had a neon sign that read "Jesus Saves," and I swear, I got a little homesick ;-) No one really talks "religion" here, and I've only had a pair of missionaries show up at the door since I've been here (I was so excited by friendly human contact, that I took the literature and almost offered them cookies!) Easter seems completely secular, as does Christmas (when you will almost certainly not see a billboard that reads "Jesus Is the Reason for the Season.")

Given that by contrast, this area IS so non-religious, I was surprised the other day when I was shopping for bonito and sea vegetables and sake at my local Korean market, Pal-Do World. Two women stopped me on the way out, and one of them asked in a heavy Korean accent if I went to church and knew Jesus. Well, I was startled so I said "yes" even though I don't go to church anymore. But I do know Jesus, having grown up, as I said in a strongly religious area in a strongly religious family.

Or, I know "of" him. One of the most different things about religion in the South, and why it surprised me here in the Korean market, is that relationships with Jesus are VERY personal. People speak of him as a friend or an intimate, not someone who is far away in the clouds somewhere. Hence the stickers that ask "What Would Jesus Do?" This means, in effect, "Stop and think how Christ would behave in this situation: Would he scream and yell and break this dumb guy's nose, or offer forgiveness? Would he put some money in the donation box, or would he use it to buy himself a new CD?" The answers are pretty clear.

Ocassionally, you'll meet someone who knows Jesus perhaps better than he should. When I was a teenager, I worked as a waitress at the local Waffle House. We frequently had a mentally ill customer who would come in with Jesus (or so he said; Jesus was invisible to the rest of us) to have coffee. He and Jesus would argue about baseball and politics over coffee, and then we would all get distressed, because they always argued about who would pay the tab. Thank goodness this man always won the argument, because we were terrified that one day Jesus would win, and we might be forced to deal with invisible money!

I have to say, I don't miss the overwhelming religious presence of the South, but I do miss something about it. I miss the Faith. I think everyone should have some kind of Faith to ground them in this life. Perhaps not WWJD: perhaps WWBD (What Would Buddha Do?) But whatever persona or principle is the cornerstone of your journey, I think it's worthy of sharing: not as an advertisement and not against anyone's will, but whenever it feels like the right thing to do.