Annabelle has a half-hour piano lesson every Tuesday evening, and since my iPhone doesn’t work in her teacher’s studio, it’s the one time I know I can sneak in a little pleasure reading.

Last night I was hustling through “The Lonely Polygamist” by Brady Udall (it’s fabulous) when something tore me away from the story. My chair is only a couple feet from the piano, so I’m always listening, at least sort of.

“All right, Annabelle,” said her teacher, a lovely woman who’s promised Sophie can start lessons when she’s 7. (Annabelle’s age when she started.) “Tonight we are going to learn a new Italian word. Ritardano!”

You need to know that the word’s not pronounced the way it looks. It’s “ree-tard-ano.” Or, if you add the teacher’s gusto, “REE-TARD-ANO!!!!!!!!!!”

I felt myself flinch. I looked up at both the teacher and Annabelle. Neither showed any sort of reaction; they simply went about the lesson, the teacher explaining the word means to play slowly. I was so glad. It’s hard to imagine how, but I think the word “retard” might have escaped Annabelle entirely — so far.

I am down with the whole “Don’t Use The R Word” thing. As you know if you’ve read GIAPH for a while, I’ve asked co-workers not to use it around me. Not perjoratively, anyway.

The whole thing makes me a little sad, for a number of reasons I was reminded of last night. I work in a business that celebrates both language and freedom of expression. No one should be told not to use a word. Right?

Make that, no one should have to be told not to use a word.

Words hold power and we have the ability to use them for good or for evil. In this case, last night, I thought ritardano sounded just right, as I listened to Annabelle play slowly.

To be honest, I’ve always been fond of the word “retarded” when used to talk of something slowing down (rather than to attack a particular person). Think about the word. Let it roll around in your head. To retard.

It works. It’s a good one. But not necessarily a keeper, given the cultural backdrop. Same with gay, another word of which I’m quite fond but can’t use.

Funny, sometimes I watch Sophie and think that retarded fits so well. Whether I like it or not, she is, in fact, slowed down. Her occupational therapist once told me that with people with Down syndrome, it’s as though they are wearing gloves on their hands; their sense of touch is that impaired. Sophie’s ability to use her fingers is retarded. 

It fits, right? But I won’t be trying that description in public any time soon.