In Corvallis, Ore., some months ago, the editor of the Gazette-Times wanted to commend Bob Johnson, a member of the local school board. Johnson had stoutly defended the city’s teachers from the criticism of parsimonious taxpayers.

“Here, here!” cried the editor.

To which the usual response is, “There, there!”

It may not be a felonious offense to confuse “here, here” with “hear, hear,” but it ranks as a serious misdemeanor. Why, we ask ourselves, do these things happen? Two answers suggest themselves. The writer is careless, or the writer is ignorant.

I can tell you, out of 65 years as a reporter and editor, that just publishing a daily newspaper is a daily miracle. Given a million opportunities to err in fact, in figures, in spelling, in grammar, in dates and times and names, the wonder is that we do as well as we do. Alas, to err is human. We ink-stained wretches do not dwell upon Olympus.

Thus the Mount Airy (N.C.) News interviewed a woman recovering from breast cancer. The reporter quoted her: “I’ve had a lot of surgeries because of staff infections.” Again, “I wonder if the silicone implants weren’t the cause of the staff infection.” That was a staph infection, ma’am, short for staphylococcus, and a meaner bacterium doesn’t exist.

When we come up with a palpable error in spelling, it’s usually just a regrettable typo. Surely that explains a report from Tokyo in the Los Angeles Times a year ago. The Japanese were attempting “to staunch further damage to their international image.” The verb is “stanch,” and because it dates from the 14th century, we ought staunchly to defend it.

The Associated Press reported from Tehran last year that “reformers believe the conservatives are trying to skewer the elections in their favor.” Come now! The AP’s man in Tehran wanted “to skew,” not “to skewer.” Conservatives neither skew nor skewer, except possibly with election returns from Florida.

Thinking about “skew”: It’s not only a verb meaning “to depict unfairly” or “to distort.” It’s also a noun. It can be a drizzling rain, a difficult passage for translation or explanation, or a small boat made of wicker. That boat is technically a “coracle.” As every reader knows, coracles also are “authorities on everything,” such as the editorial writers of The New York Times.

This past December, two AP writers provided a feature story about a midnight hike through a botanical garden. “At the end of the trail was a beautiful opening in the canapé.” An opening in the what? perhaps those hungry campers saw cheese and caviar. The word the writers wanted was “canopy,” a noun rooted in ancient Greek and Latin. The plural “canopies” may be purchased in grocery stores throughout the world.

Some blunders are truly hard to excuse. Not long ago, a reader sent me the “acknowledgments” page from a book about South Africa. Here the author thanked a number of authorities who educated him in the mining of diamonds. Among them was Dr. John Gurney of the University of Cape Town. “He checked details most helplessly.”

Alas, sometimes it happens that way. Henceforth let us strive to check every page of our copy, from top to bottom, that is, and from the head to detail.

James Kilpatrick is a syndicated columnist.