"Flippers, goggles, oxygen tank" -- cringeworthy, or useful??

[kelemvor]

I think context is important. Tank, cylinder, bottle, tin, all mean the same thing, and might get used in the same conversation. Stage, bailout, deco may be important depending on the context. If it's in the media, I just assume that they're ignorant of any differences, and come to my own conclusions as to accuracy based on other information.

People got all uppity when people said divers were taking oxygen tanks into the Thai cave, then it turned out there actually were tanks full of 100% O2 being staged in the cave to replenishing diminishing oxygen levels. Who was correct, the journalist that called them what they were, ignorant of the fact that they may or may not have all been oxygen? The commenters who said that it couldn't be oxygen and the journalists were ignorant? Does it really matter?

I think that's a good argument for more consistently using the correct terminology. People threw a fit because journalists almost universally get that terminology wrong. Therefore the one time journalists got it right, nobody believed them. There must be some kind of lesson here, but I'm not sure exactly what it is . I suspect what happened is that the journalists blew it, and just got lucky that there really was some O₂ being used... but I wasn't there.

 

[lowflyer]

Sometimes I think people getting upset over using past terminology is just a way of making themselves feel good and a little superior.

As far as the use of the word 'clip' for 'magazine', those who get so upset over it are disparaging WW II vets who would put a fresh 'clip' in their 1911s, including my father.
The following is from the NRA Glossary:
"Clip A device for holding a group of cartridges. Semantic wars have been fought over the word, with some insisting it is not a synonym for "detachable magazine." For 80 years, however, it has been so used by manufacturers and the military. There is no argument that it can also mean a separate device for holding and transferring a group of cartridges to a fixed or detachable magazine or as a device inserted with cartridges into the mechanism of a firearm becoming, in effect, part of that mechanism."

When I started diving in the late 1950s we wore flippers. As soon as we started calling them fins, they worked so much better

 

[markmud]

Kimela is right on with this thought:

I suppose one might argue the importance of getting the science of oxygen versus air or other gases correct.

Am I just a terminology snob??

No, you aren't on this point. It is important and a journalist should do some basic research on what they are writing about and make an attempt at using correct nomenclature. 100% O2 in a scuba tank is a big deal.

@Seaweed Doc, I totally agree. It is like the journalist reporting on a aircraft accident and using the term aileron for horizontal stabilizer and flap for elevator, and etc. It is just wrong; especially now with Google, et allia.

Oxygen is just wrong. It's an air tank, unless there's tech diving involved.

Here is what I found with a quick search from a search engine. It is #1 at the top of the page.
https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=3&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwjsnOfavdLhAhXGSt8KHe5xBYsQFjACegQIEBAL&url=http://www.elitedivingagency.com/articles/scuba-tank-gas-mixture-divers-use/&usg=AOvVaw2i5ytZ1bv_0mF3cbky5d1X

Having written all of that, I call my fins flippers all time and my weights are referred to as sinkers. At that level, a potato is a potahto (sp), and etc.

Vessels DO NOT USE ropes; with one exception: Ropes are for hangings.

Is a person hanged or hung?

When somebody messes with my "kit" I push back. When we prepare to dive I "gear-up". For me "kit" requires defensive action; something negative is happening to my gear. Gearing-up is in preparation for fun. I like that British term; it is just so proper and formal.

Nomenclature is fun.

Viva la difference (I don't speak French, so who cares if I can't spell it correctly).

cheers,
markm

 

[kelemvor]

Kimela is right on with this thought:When somebody messes with my "kit" I push back. When we prepare to dive I "gear-up". For me "kit" requires defensive action; something negative is happening to my gear. Gearing-up is in preparation for fun. I like that British term; it is just so proper and formal.

That black Pontiac Firebird requires no defense from you. As I understand things it has tear gas, flamethrowers, high voltage, and other weapons with which to defend its-self.

 

[The Chairman]

What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
William Shakespeare
​

I love languages as well as the origins of words. I am a logophile and amateur etymologist. If you're learning a skill, you need to learn the language as the participants use it. It's then prescriptive. After you stop being a noob, then it's your right to be able to change those terms as you see fit. Words evolve. Words are abrogated. It's only natural.

The word "graveyard" is ancient. It's been around a long, long time. Yet, it gave the feeling of horror to many, so some smart soul grabbed "cemetery" from the French, anglicizing it a bit. As it also gained a bit of horror, new words have been created such as "memorial garden". So the evolution continues as words come to be accepted, fall to disuse or even rejected. Certain words are used to add gravitas or levity to a conversation. It's entirely up to you what you accept or reject.

 

[David Wilson]

Sometimes the problem is the absence from English of an exact translation of a common term in another language. What comes to mind is the Russian noun "гидрокостюм", which combines the Greek prefix "hydro" with the French noun "costume". It would be great if we had an English expression such as "water suit" or "hydrosuit" to denote garments worn in aquatic conditions just as we have "space suit" to denote what astronauts wear. The Russian term "гидрокостюм" (gidrokostyum) covers garments used in water skiing, caving, fishing and powerboating as well as diving. Google Translate and even the more reliable Linguee automatically translate "гидрокостюм" as "wetsuit", which is only sometimes accurate because the Russian term "гидрокостюм" can also denote a drysuit.

Even if you don't read old Russian diving books as a hobby as I do, don't you regret the absence of an English term such as "water suit" or perhaps "aqua suit" to complement "space suit" and to denote aquatic apparel that may be either a wetsuit or a drysuit? I get very irritated when every diving suit is described as a wetsuit by educated lay people who think the "wet" in wetsuit is to do with it being worn in water rather than to do with it admitting a little water that is then warmed to body temperature. Do drysuit wearers simply smile patiently when their expensive exposure suits are described as wetsuits?

 

[Fastmarc]

This thing about the history of language is so interesting, but I'm still trying to guage how much support my 'Flipper Movement' will get.

"Hang on, just my flippers left to don...."

 

[The Chairman]

Sometimes the problem is the absence from English of an exact translation of a common term in another language.

The most famous Russian word in the English language is "Robot". It comes from the verb "to work". Yes, it's also Czech, as was the guy who brought it to the English language.

 

[D_Fresh]

I'm with @The Chairman and others who find this sort of terminology, lexicon, language, and entomology fascinating. It's fun stuff

 

[John C. Ratliff]

I've been looking, but haven't seen any reference to this book yet:

All this talk about acronyms and misunderstanding terminology reminds me of a time when I was diving on the Warm Mineral Springs Underwater Archaeological Project in the winter of 1975 with Sonny Cockrell. There had been an emergency at Warm Mineral Springs, noted for its mineral content and supposed healing powers (50,000 ppm minerals and 87 degrees F). The resort operated while we were diving there, and we dove off one end of the springs, while the tourists were on the other. Well, someone had a heart attack, as I recall, and asked us divers for help. (Realize that this was before we had oxygen at the site, which we used for decompression from about 20 feet to the surface.) We called the ambulance, but they wanted to know why we didn't bring our twin AL80s over and administer oxygen from our SCUBA tanks. After explaining it what seemed like a hundred times, Sonny finally last it and shouted,

"It's NOT oxygen in these tanks!!!
"It's air.
"We take air like this," and he made like he grabbed a cubic meter or cubic yard of air, "...and cram it into this small space..." whereupon Sonny got his hands down to a little tiny cube, "...under pressure and breath it! IT'S THE SAME THING AS WE ARE BREATHING NOW!"

Sonny Cockrell could be quite demonstrative when needed. But still people did not understand the difference between pure oxygen and air.

Here's another story about the importance of how communications are given from my memoir, which I'm currently finishing up:

We regularly made jumps in the water off White Beach, on the east side of Okinawa, and at a drop zone in the interior. We made a drop in the interior DZ (drop zone) for the first time since we had lost the use of the facility. The problem occurred on a jump when a spotter chute hung up in the door of the HU-16B Albatross amphibian aircraft assigned to our unit. These spotter ‘chutes had a 50 pound circular weight, with a clip for the small parachute. The parachute was packed into a bag, which was secured with 85 pound break-away cord. On the other side of the bag was a 15 foot-long line which attached to the plane. When the jumpmaster threw out the spotter chute, the break-away cord broke, allowing the parachute out of the bag (just like our regular deployment bags for the large parachutes). The jumpmaster then simply pulled the bag back into the plane, and watched to see the wind drift and where the parachute landed. This allowed him to line up the plane on the spotter ‘chute, in line with the target, count up as he passed over the ‘chute, count down as he passed over the target and tap the jumpers out when his countdown reached “zero.”

But this time, there were problems. The spotter ‘chute did not deploy out of the bag. Someone apparently tied it with parachute cord, with a breaking strength of 550 pounds, rather than the break-away cord with its 90 pound tensile strength. The jumpmaster notified the pilot via radio of the hang-up, and the pilot said,

“Cut the line...”

whereupon the jumpmaster cut the line. But the pilot went on to say,

“...when we get over the ocean.”

By that time, the spotter chute, still tucked securely into it’s bag, and the weight, were on a quickly accelerating trajectory to the ground. The weight and ‘chute made a direct hit a the roof of an Okinawan family, proceeded through it as if it was not there, and demolished their kitchen table about 15 seconds after the family had gotten up from breakfast to go out. It was pure luck that no one was killed; we lost the DZ for over a year.

I have remembered this story for many years, and use it to show the importance of how we word our communications. If the pilot had instead said, “When we get over the ocean, cut the cord on my command,” we would have hod an entirely different outcome.
From my manuscript, Between Air and Water, the Memoir of an USAF Pararescueman, Copyright 2019, John C. Ratliff

So if there is a command to be given to someone, and there is also a qualifying statement, give the qualifying statement first, then the command.

SeaRat