OK

by Metcalf, Allan;

  But suppose we opt for okay. Even that, it turns out, is not the expected spelling for a word pronounced OK. The problem is the k. English spelling does have some rules, chaotic as it often seems. One of the rules is to spell the k sound, when possible, with a c.

  Before a vowel, we do spell the k sound with k if the vowel that follows is e, i, or y. That’s to avoid mispronouncing a word with a soft c (an s or ch) sound, as in circus or cello. The spelling c is ambiguous before those vowels, so we allow k.

  But when the vowel following the k sound is a, o, or u, there is no such ambiguity. In those cases, English spelling prefers c, not k. So the dictionary spells the names of certain plants as oca and ocotillo, not oka and okotillo. We write oculist, not okulist.

  True, okay is generally (though not always) spoken with emphasis on the second syllable, not the first as in those examples. In that case, the typical spelling for the k sound is a double c, as in occult, occur, and occasion. That last word happens to begin with the exact same sounds as OK. For some reason, however, we don’t spell OK as occay.

  Why don’t we notice that the spelling okay is odd? Two reasons. First, we’re so used to okay that we don’t question it. It has had that spelling for nearly a century and a half. And second, it does follow a certain logic, however exceptional. There’s a k in the two-letter versions of OK, so a spelling that starts out ok- is more closely connected to its sibling than one that begins oc-. Further, the name of the letter k takes the exceptional spelling kay, making the connection to the two-letter spelling even closer. That’s different from the expected spelling cay, referring to a little island of sand or coral.

  So okay is an odd yet logical spelling, following a different drummer than most words with the k sound before the vowel a.

  Konspikuous Ks

  In the English alphabet, no letter is more conspicuous than k. Or to put it another way, no letter has a better ready-made opportunity to be conspicuous than k. That’s because, thanks to the versatility of c, k really isn’t needed in English. It was a late addition to the English alphabet, used regularly in English writing only after the Norman conquest, a mere thousand years ago.

  So k makes OK stand out. Indeed, with regard to recent borrowings into English of foreign words beginning with “non-English initial combinations” like ka-, the Oxford English Dictionary says that these spellings suggest “the uncouth or barbarous character of the words.”

  In all its spelling variations, OK makes use of the conspicuous letter k, instead of the correct and less conspicuous c. Other words take advantage of the power of k too: K for strikeout in baseball, even though it’s not the initial letter, KO for a knockout in boxing (a twentieth-century innovation possibly suggested by being a simple reversal of OK), even though it’s a silent letter, and two Ks in Kodak, deliberately chosen to make that name distinctive.

  Many Parts of Speech

  Adjective First

  When we turn from spelling to grammar, the hydra-headedness of OK continues. It won’t be confined to a single part of speech. In fact, OK fits every one of the four major grammatical categories: noun, verb, adjective, and adverb, as well as the wild-card category of interjection.

  At heart, OK is an adjective, modifying a noun. It was that way in its very first appearance, in a Boston newspaper in 1839, and it has thrived that way ever since. To take a few examples plucked from the Web:

  Finding flaws on our website is OK.

  Gwyneth’s Marriage Is OK, Says Mom (headline)

  We Are Not Perfect, but We Are OK (title of a human anatomy exhibit)

  This is OK as a predicate adjective, coming after the noun it modifies as well as the verb of the sentence (most often is). It’s one of two common positions in a sentence for an adjective. The other is right before the noun, what’s known as an attributive adjective, and OK readily assumes that position too.

  Burris will be at least an OK U.S. senator, probably a decent one and maybe even a good one. (Chicago Tribune)

  Noun, Verb, Adverb

  But OK was too versatile to be limited to its original part of speech as an adjective. Sometimes it became a thing, taking on the form and function of a noun. The form includes the possibility of a plural, and the function includes object and subject of a sentence, as well as object of a preposition, all illustrated in the first of these examples:

  He includes another boxed and starred “OK,” but he does not silently write it, as before. This “OK” is not primarily iconic but orally expressive, like the “OKs” of his homework story. (Handbook of Early Literacy Research)

  Sounds to me her English level was not so high, so her OK was simply a way of acknowledging his statement.

  When this OK becomes our everyday attitude, when we accept reality, we can at last live in the middle of reality.

  What else? Well, you can verb OK easily enough, adding the inflections -s, -ed, and -ing as appropriate. It occurs especially in newspaper headlines, where OK is attractive to editors because it takes up less space than approve or another alternative:

  Phillips Says She OK’d Use of Photo

  Woman Admits She OK’d Fraudulent Loan

  L.A. Council OKs 3-Month Moratorium on Billboards

  Council OKs Smoking Pot in WAMM Tent

  Less common, but still plentiful, is OK as an adverb, modifying a verb or an entire sentence. Here is an example, embedded in a 1954 letter by Chicago newspaperman Mike Royko to his future wife:

  This caused the officer in charge of my section to feel that I had put a black mark on his record so he gave me a long winded lecture. I took the lecture OK but when he asked me if I planned on reenlisting I blew my stack.

  Interjection!

  Finally, there is OK the interjection, the wild card located in a third dimension outside the structure of the rest of the sentence. It’s perhaps the most common use for OK nowadays:

  OK, show me the money.

  OK, I give up. What’s the answer?

  OK, what is this Venus retrograde all about?

  And being unrelated grammatically to anything else in the sentence, the interjection OK can also occur all by itself. Or merely be repeated, as in the song from a 2007 album by the Swedish group the Bombhappies with the title Ok ok ok ok ok ok ok, or Juliana Hatfield’s song “OK, OK,” from her 1995 album “Only Everything,” with the chorus

  OK OK, whatever you say.

  OK OK, I did it but I didn’t.

  OK OK, don’t make me get crazy.

  OK OK OK OK, OK, OK.

  To give the interjection an emphatic positive spin, you can add an exclamation point to make it OK! (which happens to be the title of a celebrity magazine, first published in Britain and recently also available in an American edition).

  The Wordhood of OK

  The multiplicity of spellings and grammatical uses leads to a more fundamental question: What is OK, anyway? Is it a word? If so, why do we spell it OK, like an abbreviation or acronym? Or is it an abbreviation or acronym? If so, why do we spell it okay ? And if an abbreviation, what does it stand for?

  There’s a simple answer, but it’s not fully satisfying. Simply stated, OK is an abbreviation, an acronym, technically an initialism—the name of each initial letter sounded—for all correct. And yes, the perpetrator knew that the initials were not correct at all.

  That’s how OK began. But it wasn’t long before the ridiculous abbreviation was forgotten and fanciful false explanations of its origin began to emerge in its place. Though the true origin of OK was uncovered and exhaustively demonstrated by Columbia University professor Allen Walker Read nearly fifty years ago, it’s safe to say that hardly any one of the many millions who use it nowadays knows what OK originally stood for.

  If we consider OK an initialism, it would be in the same class as IOU, FBI, USA, or more recent abbreviations like FAQ, IMHO, ROFL, WTF. If we consider OK a word, it’s like scuba (self-contained underwater breathing apparatus) or laser (light amplification by stimulated emission of radiat
ion).

  But either way it’s the dunce in the class, the pseudo-ignorant fool with a sign pinned to its back proclaiming its failure to master even the rudiments of proper spelling. It might seem good to let its origin remain obscure so that the grown-up OK can go about its serious business nowadays without evoking laughter. But it’s all the more impressive when we recognize its triumphant ascent from humble beginnings.

  The Meaning of OK: The Neutral Affirmer

  Amidst its many spellings and grammatical uses, OK manages to retain the essence of the definition it was given at its birth: “all correct.” It affirms. An action succeeds, a device works, and a person survives if they are OK. If a document is OK, it is approved. If food is OK, you can eat it. If your car is OK, you can drive it without worry. If a patient in a hospital is OK, you can expect that the person will recover. If you click an OK box on your computer, you approve of what it’s doing. If a friend answers “OK” when you propose a change in plans, you know the change is approved.

  As long as it is in an either-or situation, OK is as positive as can be. OK is as good as it gets when you accept an offer, confirm an arrival, or proofread a page. Typically in this situation OK is used as an interjection, either by itself or leading off a sentence. Or it’s an interjection at the end of a sentence, asking for confirmation. Maybe you’re confirming plans with someone:

  OK, we’ll meet at 10 a.m. this Saturday at Anne’s house on 123

  Main Street. Can you be in charge of bringing extra pens?

  I’m coming home now, OK? OK, see you in a bit.

  Or more simply, an exchange sometimes repeated several times at the end of a discussion,

  OK? OK.

  But even in those situations, OK affirms without evaluating. That plans have been made and accepted is certain. Whether that is welcome or grudging, OK doesn’t say. You have to add a qualifying word or phrase to make that clear:

  OK, great! We’ll meet at 10 a.m. this Saturday.…

  OK, that will really ruin the weekend, but if we have to, we’ll meet at 10 a.m. this Saturday.…

  If it’s OK, it’s all correct. But it’s not necessarily wonderful. Or terrible either. About the value of the affirmation, OK just doesn’t say. No wonder it is so useful.

  In its earliest days, especially during the presidential campaign of 1840, when OK was just a year old, OK could express enthusiasm. Tammany OK Clubs boisterously supported the reelection of incumbent Martin Van Buren. (He still lost.) But the vigor injected into OK by the election of 1840 did not spread to every instance of its use. Even back then OK had the distinctive quality of today’s basic meaning: affirming without evaluating. As far back as 1872, Maximilian Schele de Vere wrote in his book Americanisms, “To the question how a convalescent is, the answer comes back: “Oh, he is quite O. K. again!” OK wasn’t enough of an affirmation; he needed quite as well.

  Here are more examples of an OK that isn’t so wonderful:

  Just these few lines to tell you I got here all O.K. but I left my coat in the ladies dressing room in Los Angeles. (Letter from Josephine Earp to her husband, Wyatt, in 1929)

  Well Bud how are you and the folks? O.K. I hope. I am well and getting along fairly well still working in the shirt shop. (Letter from bank robber John Dillinger, in jail, to his brother in 1930)

  You can apply the very test to see how noncommittal OK is. Most adjectives can express greater intensity with the modifying adverb very, as in very good or very satisfying. But you can’t say very OK; something is either simply OK or not. The prohibition extends to all modifying adverbs, so we never (or hardly ever) say extremely OK, thoroughly OK, moderately OK, partly OK, or the like.

  Furthermore, unlike most other adjectives, OK refuses to allow comparatives or superlatives: you can say better, best, or more satisfying, most satisfying, but not OKer, OKest, or more OK, most OK.

  So by itself, OK is value neutral. Whenever there are different degrees of acceptability, OK doesn’t point to any particular one. By default, that permits mediocrity as well as excellence. OK is not a sufficiently positive response to questions like “How do I look?” or “What did you think of my dinner?” Used that way, OK can deflate a balloon—or anything else. Some examples from the Web:

  Yes, it was an OK balloon, but I wanted a bigger one.

  This vacuum did an OK job. Don’t expect superior cleaning with this one.

  Went to Peasant last nite and had great food. The decor is OK, the service OK but the food is wonderful!

  In terms of the chicken the most we can say is that it was OK. OK meaning not lousy and not spectacular either. It was OK as in good OK but not exceptional that we’d rave about it.

  Regarding the relatively disappointing reception for Michael Jackson’s 2001 album Invincible, a commentator on VH1 said,

  In the end, it was an OK record. And nobody was interested in OK for Michael Jackson.

  In Oklahoma, the OK Chorale (named for the state) is a serious award-winning barbershop group. But outside Oklahoma, a chorus that puts OK in front of its name makes a point of its mediocrity. The OK Chorale of Seattle, Washington, declares:

  The OK Chorale is an ASUW [Associated Students of the University of Washington] Experimental College non-audition choir of folks who love to sing. We sing in 4-part harmony and have experienced singers and uncertain beginners, music readers and non-readers. The rehearsals are fun and no one gets hurt. Just because your grade school music teacher told you to mouth the words is no reason not to sing out now.

  Likewise, in Boston there is the OK Chorale, a filk/folk chorus. And what is filk? According to Jordin Kare in Sing Out! magazine:

  Filkers are, by tradition, extremely bad singers, and many filksongs parody filking itself. The traditional filkish key is Off, and a classic filk chorus starts, “So belt out whatever note suits you / The rest will join in, each one in his own key.…”

  How negative OK can become is illustrated by one of the Nine Most Widely Used Words by Women on David Tan’s website:

  (6) That’s Okay: This is one of the most dangerous statements a woman can make to a man. That’s okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.

  Another Meaning: The Lecturer’s OK

  Carmody clears her throat. She says, “Stay right where you are, please. Stop.” Her voice is loud enough for them to hear, but it is not demanding.

  The young woman reaches out on each side of her, grabbing a hand of each of the men. Her lips move.

  Carmody thinks the girl said, “Okay.” She imagines the word in her head and decides that the girl didn’t mean “okay” as in “good.” She meant “okay” as in “now.”

  The trio begins to move forward.… (Stephen White, The Siege [2009], 124)

  This example from a novel reflects what many of us do in conversation: use OK as a “structural marker,” not so much to affirm as to introduce, punctuate, or conclude what we have to say. In some people’s speech OK even serves as a filler word, equivalent to you know, like, uh, or um. Speakers use fillers to avoid silence while they are thinking of what to say next, because silence would invite interruption.

  One frequent modern use of OK is what Harry Levin and Deborah Gray called “the lecturer’s OK,” as in, “OK. The final study I’m going to talk about had to do with.…” It’s a natural spin-off from the simple affirmative interjection at the start of a sentence, the OK of “OK, I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.” We are so used to beginning a sentence with that interjection that it easily is picked up to introduce a new topic or just call for our attention. Indeed, sometimes it calls to attention the speaker more than the listener; some people will say OK to themselves as they review points they want to make. (Or they may say all right, the closest synonym of OK, as Erik Schleef recently pointed out.)

  The Old Philosophy of OK: Making It Work

  Alexis de Tocqueville, writing around the time of the birth of OK, could make the argument that American
s have no philosophy. They are too pragmatic; they just go about their business.

  Perhaps so. But if there is an American philosophy, it could be argued that it is simply OK.

  That OK should embody a philosophy seems, at first glance, absurd. Two letters born of a joke and used for practical purposes hardly make a view of life or a guiding principle. In fact, to this day formal philosophical discourse, like all formal discourse, generally avoids using OK at all.

  But it could be argued that OK is the American philosophy, expressing in two letters our pragmatism, our efficiency, our concern to get things accomplished by hook or crook. We don’t insist that everything be perfect; OK is good enough, and much better than not OK.

  It has been said that democracy is the worst form of government, except for everything else. Similarly, OK is the worst way of getting along, except for everything else. As Tim Gunn says, make it work! With OK, it does. In the words of the moral of a short story by humorist George Ade, one of the popularizers of OK early in the twentieth century:

  Any System is O.K. if it finally Works Out.

  The New Philosophy of OK: I’m OK—You’re OK

  Beginning in the 1960s, and thanks to that one famous OK quotation, another philosophy of OK began to spread. It was one of tolerance and acceptance, as in these recent postings on the Web:

  It’s OK to wear what you want.

  It’s OK to choose melodies where only a line or two are immediately singable by the congregation.

  It’s OK to choose not to vaccinate your kids.

  It’s OK not to have a child. It’s OK to adopt or foster. It’s OK to make choices your mother won’t understand.

  If you don’t know what you want to major in, you are not alone. Many freshmen and sophomores haven’t picked a major yet. And guess what? That’s OK.