college

Now seems as good a time as any to introduce the first of my various geekeries (to coin a term) to C&B. It is, in a word, words.

This may not come as a complete surprise to those who have read a decent amount of my writing, either here or elsewhere. Nevertheless, I might as well be upfront about it. I’m a word person. I love language. Gimme words, not numbers. I’m AP English/B-lane Math. Arts, not Sciences. You know how in Contact, Carl Sagan had the extraterrestrials make their presence known to us by broadcasting pulses of sound in an ascending prime-number pattern, because math is a universal, unchanging science recognizable to any sentient being? What I thought was, “Blech, whatever. If the aliens are so all-fired smart and advanced beyond our comprehension, they could figure out one of our languages and communicate in it without breaking a sweat. The fact that they’re not doing so proves that they are at the very least willful and obtuse, and quite possibly hostile.”

But I digress. My affection for words and language seems to be hereditary, given that my parents are both retired teachers of English language, literature and composition. I try not to emulate my Dad’s habit of correcting one’s conversational grammar or usage, but sometimes I can’t help myself. Thus far I have escaped any serious beatings, but I know that I may be tempting fate. I’ll surely write more of my views on the ever-shifting standards of Correct vs. Incorrect English later. Email all your friends – it’ll be an event that shakes the blogosphere to its very foundation. Or something.

Right now, I’d just like to share a few selections from Jeffrey Kacirk’s Forgotten English, the 2006 desktop calendar edition of which I received in my Christmas stocking from my wife Santa. The following are the words that I have liked enough to not discard once their day ended and they were torn off the deck by the inexorable march of time, or as some would call it, my hand.

• scurryfunge. Defined as the sudden tidying that occurs between the time when an occupant of a house sees a neighbor approaching and the time when she knocks on the door. It is not made clear whether the word is a verb, as in, “If you hear her mother’s voice outside, she’s gonna scurryfunge like Martha Stewart on amphetamines,” or a noun, as in “She’s got the place sparkling clean, but when they ring from the intercom downstairs you’re still going to see the scurryfunge of the century.”

• toesmithing. Kacirk: “Dancing; theatre slang.” I was surprised at my total unfamiliarity with this one, given my status as a theatre person, moreover a theatre person trained in dance, and (given the word’s Elizabethan origin) as a bardolator. For my wife, “toesmithing” initially evoked the image of an artisan of some kind hammering people’s toes into shape, or perhaps forging artifical toes out of something. Upon reflection, this makes good sense to me – in fact, I wonder if the word wasn’t at some point linked with classical ballet. Back in college I knew several ballerinas who’d trained long enough in the sadistic art known as “dancing en pointe” that they apparently could have benefited from the replacement of several toes.

• dish up the spurs. Verb phrase said to originate in the English-Scots border region of the 17th-18th centuries; refers to the manner in which a host would inform guests that provisions for consumption at the gathering were running short and a bit of horse-mounted pillaging was necessary for the festivities to continue. Apparently these folks were not yet to the point in party etiquette where guests’ original invitations could include an instruction to Bring Your Own Plunder. Like some others have, this archaic phrase gave me a practical idea to use in the present day: when you’re hosting a party and need to wrap things up, don’t bother serving coffee – it’ll just mean more dishes for you to do. Instead, bring around a lovely platter with everyone’s keys on it. They’re easy to come by – they’ll be on the bed, with all the bags and coats.

• erubescency. Personal shame or abashment at one’s own actions, for fear of loss of reputation. This was the designated word for March 10, indicated as the former “Day of Public Humiliation,” briefly observed during the 1653-1658 reign of the puritan Oliver Cromwell. Exactly what kind of observances took place is not indicated, but Kacirk gives some space to the Puritans’ practice of naming their children after biblical virtues, even in whole-phrase form, e.g. “Trust-in-the-Savior Stephens,” etc. As a genealogy geek (which will be expanded upon in future posts) I can identify with that naming practice, having as I do ancestors with names like Rememberance Lippincott and Silence Hand. I am not making those up. Also, this word’s presenting itself to me last Friday, March 10, the date of my second car wreck in a three-month period, was too big an irony supplement to swallow.