Tag: words

  • Whatchamacallit…Part Two

    Do you know what this thing is called?

    Hint, it’s not called that thing above the 7.

    While it represents the word and, technically, it’s not called and or even the and symbol (although, you could call it that, and people would probably know exactly what you mean). This thing has an actual name. If you watch Wheel of Fortune (or if you’re one of those generally well-informed individuals) you may already know what that name is…

    Pat, I’ll take an ampersand…

    Technically, no one on Wheel of Fortune ever buys an ampersand…it’s a given.

    Now, for the second question: Do you know why it’s called ampersand?

    No, not because some printer by the name of Amper invented it (it’s not Amper’s and, although that explanation does sound plausible). And that brings us to the crux of this article.

    In fact, its name has a lot to do with how spoken words are heard and/or misheard…it’s a mondegreen.

    Say what?

    Yes, the word ampersand is a mondegreen! Here’s Merriam-Websteren’s entry for ampersand:

    noun am·per·sand \ ˈam-pər-ˌsand \ :  a character typically & standing for the word and

    Despite appearances, the history of ampersand owes nothing to amp or sand. The familiar character & derives from a symbol that was used in place of the Latin word et, which also means “and.” In the late Middle Ages, single letters used as words-words like I-were, when spelled, incorporated into a phrase that clarified that they were in fact individual words. For I the phrase was I per se, I, which in Latin means I by itself (is the word) I. In early lists of the alphabet, Z was followed by the symbol &, which was rendered & per se, and, meaning “& by itself (is the word) and.” Over the years, that phrase (which when spoken aloud was pronounced “and per se and”) was shortened by English speakers to ampersand. (https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/ampersand)

    When you think about the way modern-day school children recite the English alphabet, this makes perfect sense. Remember how you used to turn the innocent letters L-M-N-O-P into the inscrutable word elemenopea? In a similar way, over time, the slurred-together spoken phrase “and per se, and” became a word unto itself, ampersand. Aren’t words the best?

  • Use (or Choose) Your Words (Wisely)

    Use (or Choose) Your Words (Wisely)

    “Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me.”

    I’ll admit it. I am (on occasion) a public eavesdropper, but only because people say the most interesting things in public. For instance, I was in the parking lot of an organic market not too long ago and a family (consisting of a mother, a father, and a pre-teen son) was getting in the car next to mine. The son was not in a happy mood.

    “Why are you mad with Daddy?” the mother asked, and then instructed him, “Use your words.”

    The son proceeded to not use words, his or otherwise, but to sulk as he climbed into the backseat of the crossover with folded arms.

    I laughed inwardly, mainly because I was surprised to hear that people really used words like “use your words.”

    Another time, I was innocently eating breakfast at a hotel near a popular amusement park, when a family of four was seated at the table next to mine. The two young boys were having a dispute, and to settle it, the father parroted the adage about sticks and stones breaking bones, but words never hurting you, to which the older son replied, “But they do hurt. They always hurt.”

    Again I chuckled, this time because the little dude was merely confirming the belief I’ve always held: words can be dangerous things.

    People can make cutting remarks that go on to have long and productive lives, remarks that go so far as to find a home inside your brain, and turn up again and again like that proverbial bad penny. If someone struck you, they might leave a sore spot or a bruise, but those things heal, those things fade with time. You might at some later date wish to revisit your injury, only to discover it has completely disappeared.

    But words are different; words cut deep.

    That’s why it’s a good idea to be like Horton and only say what you mean and mean what you say. Because once the words are out, you won’t be able take them back. You can’t. You can say you’re sorry. You can say you didn’t mean it. But if those are just lame, ineffectual words compared to the mean, harmful, pointed words you’re trying to take back.

    Those words that can’t be “un-heard.”

    It reminds me of the fable about gossip, often used to illustrate how once words are spoken, they become feathers in the wind; difficult to control, impossible to collect once unleashed.

    Like that vintage shampoo commercial (and they told two friends, and so on, and so on) suggests, words have a way of getting out at an exponential rate, which is good for advertising your new restaurant, but not so good if we’re talking about your embarrassing, dirty laundry.

    Funnily enough, I have written a book that addresses this very topic. Imagine that! It’s called I’m the Greatest Star, and tells the story of a sixth-grader named Star who, among other things, finds herself face-to-face with the verbally-abusive class bully.I'm the Greatest Star 3D cover 2022

    I’m the Greatest Star is published by Stepping Stones for Kids, an Imprint of FootePrint Press and will be available for purchase next month, April 2018, as a paperback or eBook. Visit my website josielynnbooks.com for more details.

  • Whatchamacallit…Part One

    Whatchamacallit…Part One

    Meerkat Misidentified

    I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that the first time I ever saw a meerkat was in The Lion King. Shocking…but true.

    Suricate family standing in the early morning sun looking for po
    What’s this called?

    In fact, the first time I saw The Lion King I had no idea what Timon was. Embarrassingly enough, I thought he was a poorly executed rat, but then someone kindly explained to me that he was a meerkat. And at first, I thought they were saying he was just a cat, or simply a cat, but then they patiently explained that there is an entire species of animals called meerkats that are not related to cats…or rats, but to mongooses, which I was familiar with because of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. So having that all cleared up, I still didn’t exactly appreciate meerkats because the cartoon version still resembled a rat that walked around on its hind legs (as cartoon mammals are prone to do regardless of how they get around in real life, e.g., Mickey, Minnie, Pluto, Bugs, and Remy from Ratatouille, to name but a few), and because the name still sounded to me like someone was trying to disparage my beloved cats, the way someone might dismiss another’s suitability, saying, “He’s a mere child…”

    Then I saw a nature show on PBS about meerkats and I realized that they are much cuter and much more charming in the flesh. Unfortunately, this program was about a family of these endearing little critters who were on a collision course with destiny, in the form of (1). a famine (gasp), (2). the debilitating effects of inbreeding (wait…what?), (3). lions (boo), and (4). jackals (hiss). I cried…and wondered how it was that people who make these nature documentaries can sit there filming while living creatures are being brutalized right in front of them…and now, with the advent of camera phones, it all begins to make sense…

    Getting Closer to the Point

    But I’m not here to talk about what an adorable little, upright, ground-dwelling animal is called. I’m here to talk about what a group of adorable little, upright, ground-dwelling animals is called.

    And that leads me to the real, actual purpose of today’s post. Do you ever wonder about the specific name for a certain animal group?

    Two common, slightly generic group designations are herd or flock, as in a herd of cattle, giraffes, zebras, antelopes, elephants, etc… or a flock of sheep, goats, ducks (birds, in general), camels, etc.  It’s also interesting to note that these words also refer to the action of gathering animals or people together (as in Corgis were bred to herd cattle) or to the action of animals or people moving together as a group (as in They flocked to the Apple Store to buy the latest iPhone).

    A few more common group designations are school, pride, and pod. Who hasn’t heard of a school of fish or a pride of lions? And the term pod can refer to groups of sea mammals, like seals, walruses, and whales, and even to sea-faring birds, like pelicans.

    But some group designations are slightly more obscure. Which brings me back to the aforementioned meerkats. A recent trip to the zoo revealed that a group of meerkats is called a mob. Who knew? Not to be mistaken for a flash mob, but rather a mere mob (so don’t go envisioning a planned spontaneous assemblage of meerkats getting down to Rachel Platten’s Stand by You. That would be cute…but it’s not going to happen).

    Some group designations are fun and alliterative like a gaggle of geese, the aforementioned mob of meerkats, or the aptly named pandemonium of parrots. And if you’ve ever seen a flock of wild parrots, then you know exactly what I mean! Other group designations conjure up pretty amazing mental images: an army of frogs, a flutter of butterflies, a gang of elks (“…if they say blades, I say blades. If they say guns, I say guns…”). Or how about this one that we may have learned from Sting’s All This Time, which memorably mentions a murder of crows, leading me to wonder, who comes up with these words?!

    Ah…words. Gotta love ’em…or at any rate, use ’em!

    Happy writing!