Several months ago columnist Richard Reeves reflected thoughtfully on a few aspects of history we don’t like to think about – slavery in the American South, for example, and genocide in the Congo.

He concluded: “What our ancestors remember and say about us will depend more on what kind of people they are rather than what we do.”

Ancestors? Reeves clearly meant to write “descendants,” but the sentence came out wrong. In the same vein, Robyn Blumner wrote a column last year for Tribune Media Services about Dr. Samuel Mudd, the physician who was convicted of complicity in the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. His conviction, she said, is still being challenged “by his ancestors.” Ah, so.

These were oops. Alas, oops happen. I know. I’ve ooped a good many times myself in recent months. Let us examine their pathology.

The genus identified as the Mind-Wandering Oops includes several species. The most familiar is the Misspelled Oops – “antedote” for “antidote,” for example, and “benifits” for “benefits.” The only lasting way to handle the Misspelled Oops is to develop a strong suspicion that a word … just … doesn’t … look right.

Only experience will wipe out the Unknowing Oops. The Chicago Tribune carried a photo from Gaza a year ago: “Israeli soldiers mourn Aviv Izsa, 19, a cohort killed when a car bomb exploded.” Here at home, the Associated Press reported that a rifle-carrying man “and his cohort” robbed a convenience store in Little Rock, Ark. Cohort? One man does not a cohort make.

A more interesting species appeared in Olympia, Wash., last month, nesting in the classified ads. A professional gentleman wanted to rent a studio apartment. “Willing to trade acupuncture services in lewd of rent.” There’s a tenant to keep an eye on.

The substitution of “ancestors” for “descendants” was a Blinking Oops. The columnists blinked and wound up with the wrong word altogether. Closely related are the Homophonic Oops. They creep in as quietly as ants. Thus the Associated Press reported that when the body of mountaineer George Mallory was found on Mount Everest, there was a name tag “sown” into his clothing. It was sewn there. Syndicated columnist Michelle Malkin listened to the “hew and cry” of outraged parents. That’s an old-English hue, not a hew with an ax.

In June the AP covered flooding in Florida after a “levy” broke on the Myakka River. That was a levee, dear. A correspondent for the Anderson, S.C., Independent Mail reported a water agreement between the city of Hartwell and the Cateechee Golf Club: “The city gets rid of its affluent and the golf course benefits from free water.” The effluent was in the sewers; the affluent were still putting on the 18th green.

In Greenville, S.C., the Buncombe Street United Methodist Church announced services on Good Friday: “The sanctuary will remain open until 3 p.m. for private medication.” In Burns, Ore., in April, amateur ornithologists could attend a migratory bird festival with “antidotal information” sure to entertain their families. Anecdotal, maybe?

A widely admired variety is the Baffling Oops. It was observed in Jacksonville, Fla., in June. The AP reported that legislation to provide prescription drugs was advancing in the Senate Finance Committee. “We’re about to pass landmark legislation,” said Sen. Max Baucus of Montana. The headline read, “Drug program for Medicare gains inertia.” Momentum?

A Baffler fluttered last year in Worthington, Ohio, as part of the city’s summer program of family concerts on the green. An advertisement urged patrons to visit “Worthington’s scrupulous ice cream establishments.” I can imagine scoopulous ice cream, but scrupulous? It’s an odd flavor.

In Birmingham, Ala., a feature writer turned out a piece on bananas. A Baffler slipped into the headline “Going Bananas? They’re portable, palpable and perfect treat for any hour.” An interesting split could be made of palpable bananas and scrupulous ice cream. With nuts and cherries.

An automobile reporter in January liked the new and smaller Chevrolet Impala. It had unique tail lamps, individual temperature controls, 16-inch aluminum wheels, and more gauges added to the instrument cluster. Headline: “Impala imbibed with options.” Does any reader have a clue? An imbibing impala? A more Baffling Oops hasn’t flown by lately.

The moral to all this may be penitently stated: Writers who do not read their stuff with real care are inviting an invasion of oops. Let us persevere.

James Kilpatrick is a syndicated columnist.

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