THERE WERE NO injuries in the fire that destroyed a Cape Cod restaurant in October, the Globe reported, but "two firefighters were treated for exertion, according to Joe Carrara, deputy fire chief in Bourne."
Reader Bob Skole, who had expected the usual phrase, "treated for exhaustion," was surprised to read that diagnosis. "Is 'exertion' a new risk for firefighters?" he asked in an e-mail.
Apparently it is. Exhaustion - which, in the case of firefighters, is usually heat exhaustion, brought on by strenuous effort and high temperatures - is now replaced by exertion in some news stories.
The Globe reporters may simply have repeated their source's wording, of course. But "treated for exertion" must have sounded OK to the editors, who repeated the phrase in the photo caption.
And in the weeks since that report, firefighters have been "treated for exertion" or have "collapsed from exertion" in the pages of The Denver Post, the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, and the Rochester, N.Y., Democrat and Chronicle.
The upstart exertion is not even close to muscling out exhaustion. The Nexis news database has more than 500 examples of firefighters being treated for exhaustion, going back 35 years; by contrast, they are treated for exertion in only 16 or 17 instances, all published since 1994, when The Providence Journal said two men were "treated on the scene for smoke inhalation and exertion."
But why would even a handful of people take to using exertion, which means simply "effort," instead of exhaustion, an actual medical condition? Does the naked exhaustion, unlike heat exhaustion, sound too weak and commonplace for firefighters? Is exertion short for overexertion, a more heroic-sounding problem than exhaustion?
Or is it all just Lindsay Lohan's fault?
Consider: The firefighters' use of "exertion" closely tracks the spread of "exhaustion" as an excuse for temporary retirement among the rich, famous, and substance-abusing. And when every week brings news of another model or pop star checking into rehab for "exhaustion," the label begins to sound like mere mock-worthy euphemism. Slate magazine, in fact, last summer published a story explaining that "
This is just a theory, and possibly a wacky one. But it would be no surprise if self-respecting firefighters (and civilians too) decided that if "exhaustion" is what Amy Winehouse and Eminem are suffering from, they'd prefer a different affliction.
. . .
CRYSTAL CLEAR: A brief example from David Crystal's new book, "How Language Works," cited in the Dec. 2 column, was apparently too brief; it left several readers with the impression that Crystal was calling abroad an adjective, not an adverb.
In fact, Crystal was explaining that words often don't fit neatly into part-of-speech categories. The classic adjective, for instance, passes five tests: It occurs after forms of "to be" (he's sad); occurs after articles (the sad man); occurs after very (very sad); has comparative and superlative forms (sadder, saddest); and forms an adverb by adding -ly (sadly).
But many adjectives meet only some of these criteria. And, he wrote, one group of words beginning with a-, like abroad, ablaze, and asleep - which are sometimes grouped with adjectives - in fact pass only the first adjective test: You can say "he is abroad," where abroad occupies a slot usually held by an adjective, following a form of "to be."
But these a-words "are not all equally adverbs either," Crystal adds in an e-mail. "For instance, they don't add an -ly, like most adverbs do; abroad doesn't allow a preceding very (compare 'very quickly'); and so on." There are other differences too: "We can say 'we went abroad' but not 'we went asleep'; and some a-words take very more easily than others, such as 'I'm very ashamed' but not 'I'm very abroad."'
In short, these words occupy not separate bins but a spectrum; some adjectives are more adjective-y, and some adverbs more adverby, than others.
. . .
A CRAYON OF A DIFFERENT COLOR: Our recent discussion of alleged redundancy in phrases like "six different languages" prompted Betsy McKenzie of Milton to share her family's experience with the word. Some years ago, she recalled, "We purchased an 'off' brand of crayons which promised '64 Brilliant Colors!' When we opened the box, we found four identical boxes, each with the same 16 colors of crayons. Thus, we found that in the Crayola slogan - "64 Different Colors" - different really meant something!"
. . .
MAIL CALL: An annoying little e-mail problem has mangled or destroyed parts of my inbox in the past few months, including mail I had read but not answered. So if your recent missive has been ignored, please try again. Especially if you're the salesman frustrated by the squishiness of mattress terminology; we have a lot to talk about.
E-mail Jan Freeman at freeman@globe.com. For past columns, go to boston.com/ideas.![]()


