Category Archives: Words

Worth thinking about

Half an Eventful Saturday

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Had another lovely Third Saturday with the ladies of our church.

This month’s theme was a Garden Party and Basil. We were all dressed up– hats too– and one of the older women led a small devotional based around the gardening and growing metaphors in the bible.

Alternating with her was our master-gardener/hostess, talking about the physicality and uses of the basil she’d collected (at least six different types).

These were passed around and I marveled at how they were each so unique (Yes, I know “So unique” is redundant, but like “Learning by osmosis,” incorrect has become better understood than the correct. *sigh*)

We each planted some basil to take home, than came back inside for salad (garnished with our choice of the basils) and two different basil pizzas. (Desert was melon chunks, and, in keeping with the theme, someone had put a branch of basil on the mound of fruit in the serving dish. That collected several laughs.)

The morning was good time of conversation and encouragement (Somebody actually called me “perfect” today. Poor dear. I think she was a little over-eager to soothe some assumed hurt. But it was nice to hear anyway ;-) )

I was away until nearly 1p.m., and came home wondering how much Jay would have been able to do with the kids.

Coming in to a peaceful living room and catching his eye before the children noticed I was home, I must have been too eager to shut the front door, because I didn’t realize my finger was still there.

Jay saw what happened and was by me in a moment, looking at the mangled skin. I have never been a screamer, so he asked me (while lifting my hand above my head), “Childbirth being ten, where is this on the scale?”

He was mostly serious, and I wanted to laugh, but I was too busy slowing my breathing and trying to look at the damage (skin torn, mostly, and bruising). “I’m feeling light-headed,” I said, feeling a bit surprised.

“Yeah,” said Jay, swallowing and trying to keep my hand out of both our sights. “Me too.”

Human Words

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I knew a blind man whom a surgeon helped to see.
The doctor never had a lover such as he.
It is in such a way that singers love composers.

–Calvin Miller
The Singer

I could say nearly the same thing about certain writers. Or, at least what they’ve written.

Being a Believer I feel a certain sense of… awkwardness? tentativeness? when I find that I quote human writers as quickly as I quote scripture.

Anyone who pokes around this blog very long knows I enjoy Story, and frequently interpret my experience through that prism.

As I’m sure I’ve said before, I see folktales as the ultimate distillation of human nature– the good and the bad– and am quite willing to use them as examples to make a point.

In Christian circles, however, this seems to be an iffy choice.

Once the topic of a wife’s influence came up, and the analogy of kings and queens. I eagerly added to the conversation that the image of a queen interceding with the king is a common theme in folklore. An older Christian woman seemed bothered by my choice of example.

“But where do you see that in Scripture?” she asked.

“Esther!” I replied after a blink, not sure if she was challenging me or just quizzing me.

I have a memory that seems wired for remembering quotes (or at least their essence) and turns of phrase. I frequently find myself using those words from other people– other writers– when attempting to best express myself.

Sometimes I remember the queen exchange, and I feel like I’m not supposed to be so attached to human words, Scripture being our only/ultimate authority and all that.

But then I figure, I’m human, and no one is expecting my words to be the oracles of God. Why should anyone assume I think another human’s words are?

Lyric

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Though your life may seem to sound a dark and minor key,
It will someday shift itself to major.
And the lyric of your life will rhyme with nothing less than joy…

From a Michael Card song

I love musical metaphors. I don’t often see them.

This is from Poiema, a CD with several *good* songs, that I’ve had since High School. Just was thinking of that last line today.

Lines about Joy always catch my mind.

Discovering Pronunciation.

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In my mind, the words collaborate and corroborate are tied together. I would always mispronounce corroborate as “coraborate,” with a short-a sound. Maybe this was just because I never saw them together in print. In fact, I can’t remember seeing corroborate in print at all. I certainly didn’t know how to spell it, and maybe that’s why I couldn’t pronounce it properly.

My mom has corrected me twice this month (once yesterday) and so I’m making a post to remind myself ;-)

Her correction yesterday (we were working on dishes in my kitchen) led her to reminisce about when I was learning to read, and the first times I’d come across one of those words that aren’t pronounced as they’re written.

I could remember two: Colonel (as in, Mustard) and quay, as in, a landing place. Both times I remember coming across the word and not finding meaning in the sounds from the page. And both times my mom would (without even looking– maybe with a smile in her voice) inform me of the proper pronunciation and say that’s just how it’s done, and I’d just have to memorize it.

She asked me yesterday if those things were troublesome (not her word), and I (in one of my moments of spontaneous discovery) said, “English is kind-of like a rich, eccentric old uncle. He sort of does what he wants and we just get used to it.”

I would add to that, the reason we put up with him is because he’s so rich. I wonder if we’d put up with so much if he didn’t enable us to do just about anything we want.

How do you *think* when you’re tired?

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You know how, when people are explaining dreams, they say your brain never stops working?

Well, I am currently sleep-deprived (most half of it my fault), and my brain is starting to act like an Australian Shepard/Border collie mix tied to a kennel with a four-foot chain (if you’d read as many breed reviews as I have in the last week you’d have a deeper appreciation for the analogy).

Today was library day with my mom. She comes over every Thursday morning to do stuff with the kids. I wanted to pick up The Overload Syndrome, that I started reading months ago (even quoted it in an early blog post). They couldn’t find it, so I picked up a few dog books instead.

Ended up zoning my way through most of Mutts: America’s Dogs this afternoon, which is a surprisingly well-written exploration of how dog breeds present when combined without human direction.

I plan to do a whole post of excerpts, in a day or so (if I think of it and simultaneously have time), just because the analogies were so fun (only example I can think of off the top of my head: Golden retriever + Collie= Valley Girl marries Forest Gump, good natured, all-around good citizen, intelligence hit-or-miss; something like that).

I can’t remember ever laughing so hard reading a dog book.

My 3-year-old kept asking what was so funny, and how do do you explain (even to a somewhat precocious almost-4-year-old) how original these metaphors are. She’d look at the b&w pix illustrating the book and try to act like she understood why they were that funny. A little sad really. Children want so much to be like their parents…. Continue reading »

“Held”

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I’m pretty sure this song is well known (for such an un-descriptive title I was interested to find it was the #1 in relevance at iTunes), but, for the sake of this “discussion,” here are the lyrics.

In itself the song makes very little sense. It’s been called a “tearjerker” by at least one reviewer, and, while it’s never made me cry, I can understand how it got the label.

Having just lost my grandmother, I am learning that all those movies that never affected me before might have lacked potency because I had no resonating event.  It is taking less and less to trigger a resonance now.

The lyrics begin as if they are going to tell a story, introducing a tragic event, and some thoughts about the situation. But rather than offer a resolution you hear the chorus:

This is what it means to be held
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held.

This is what? That question is not answered anywhere in the song. It is very dream-like and full of images, but no answers.

I’ve decided I like the song (it intrigued me before, since I only heard it on the radio, and kept wondering if I’d missed some key line, hearing no resolution). And I think it is the sorrowing people who are the “answer” to the This is.

I am exhibit A.

This is what it means …
How it feels… This is what it is to be loved
And to know…

My analyzer-side really likes that chorus. I’ve sat, quietly and alone (during nap-time) and listened to those words, feeling what I’m feeling and musing, So this is how it feels, hmm?.

…The promise was
When everything fell we’d be held.

It’s simple, nothing new or earth-shattering, but still, it resonates.

And that works for me right now.

So now what am I?

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“When a child loses his parent, they [sic] are called an orphan. When a spouse loses her or his partner, they [sic] are called a widow or widower. When parents lose their child, there isn’t a word to describe them.”

–President Ronald Regan

 

Words are powerful. Having a word describe where you are gives you something of a handle. A connection to your culture (if you will) acknowledging you exist by identifying you. Allowing you to identify yourself and identify with others of the same name. The same category.

When there is not a word, when “there are no words,” someone like me is left fumbling in the darkness. Looking for a foothold, trying to figure out where I (should) stand.

I have had three grandparents die now. (Technically that leaves one parent an orphan now; or is that word only used for children? I’ve always wondered.) Each time my emotion/response and sense of loss was very different. I’ve sometimes wished for an identifying word I could use for myself. I wish for a way to say, “This one was particularly devastating/impacting/significant.”

I haven’t found it yet.

Malaprops

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From Dictionary.com

[After Mrs. Malaprop, a character in The Rivals, a play by Richard Brinsley Sheridan, from malapropos.]

Word History: “She’s as headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile” and “He is the very pineapple of politeness” are two of the absurd pronouncements from Mrs. Malaprop that explain why her name became synonymous with ludicrous misuse of language. A character in Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s play The Rivals (1775), Mrs. Malaprop consistently uses language malapropos, that is, inappropriately. The word malapropos comes from the French phrase mal à propos, made up of mal, “badly,” à, “to,” and propos, “purpose, subject,” and means “inappropriate.” The Rivals was a popular play, and Mrs. Malaprop became enshrined in a common noun, first in the form malaprop and later in malapropism, which is first recorded in 1849. Perhaps that is what Mrs. Malaprop feared when she said, “If I reprehend any thing in this world, it is the use of my oracular tongue, and a nice derangement of epitaphs!”

~~~

I was thinking of two of my favorites (one from Grandma this weekend) and looked up the word to see where it was from. I thought the results were interesting enough to share (emphases mine).

And now the two stories:

Last Saturday (when I was hanging out with Gma at the hospital) the nurse was giving her a “chin-up” talk, trying to encourage her, and ended with, “Best to just get it started so we can get it over with.” Grandma nodded and said,

“My sediments exactly.” I couldn’t help laughing (you’ve noticed, I’m sure, things are funniest during stressful times), and leaned down by her ear.

“Sediments?” I asked. Grandma laughed and laughed.

~~~

Some time ago now (Melody’s first summer) I came back from the Saturday service at Door of Hope, and after putting the kids to bed decided I wanted some ice cream (this is a very common occurrence).

I asked Jay if he wanted any, and he admirably declined (we’d each had a tiny serving before I ran off to the service). When I returned with a more realistic portion, I expressed my admiration of his strong will, and he admitted that he’d had all he wanted while I was gone.

“I’m sedated,” he said, smiling and rubbing his belly.

So appropriate. But not intentional. We finally decided he meant satiated.

from Moon Tiger

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I haven’t read the book, but I loved this excerpt when I came across it:

“I can remember the lush spring excitement of language in childhood. Sitting in church, rolling it around in my mouth like marbles– tabernacle and Pharisee and parable, trespasses and Babylon and covenant.”

— Penelope Lively

Al-i-guy-all

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I was reading Dr Seuss’s ABC book to Melody this morning and on the A spread (which the text proclaims as “Aunt Annie’s Alligator”) Melody pointed to the critter and shouted, “Ridin’ an Alligile!” (Pronunciation above).

I loved it. She seemed to decide half-way through the word it was a crocodile instead of an alligator.

~~~

Everyone was playing together so nicely this morning. At one point the girls started tossing the cat’s dingle-ball back and forth (a situation with great potential to begin with).

After Natasha threw the ball over Melody’s head, and was waiting for her to fetch it and return the favor, she turned to me and giggled. “We’re playing throw!” she said. The ball went whizzing past her and she went after it, still laughing.

This is a very appropriate name. For obvious reasons you can’t call it catch yet.