Face Poking Don

Ever since the Germanic chieftain Hengist—or was it his co-chieftain Horsa?—landed on the shores of Celtic Britain in 499 and uttered the first word of Old English, “Hwaet!” English spelling has been the subject of much debate and grief. As an English teacher, I can attest to the creative spelling that some students resort to in their writings. Every reader of this blog—admit it—has a spelling story lurking somewhere in the past. In the old days of writing letters in ink on paper, a certain friend always wrote to me in red in order to discourage me from correcting the spelling, which I never would have done, but even if I had, I customarily graded in green.

To a certain extent, spell check has given relief to legions of frustrated spellers. However, we all know that spill Czech dose knot catch awl eras. (Nor did grammar check flag the preceding clause, by the way.) As computer technology advances, auto-correct has added another facet—sometimes funny, sometimes frustrating—to the challenge of spelling as it anticipates the writer’s thoughts.

For instance, my nickname among family is “Donner,” as in the reindeer. Recently, I dashed off an e-mail only to realize after I had sent it, that auto-correct had signed me off as “Donned.” I am not sure why auto-correct felt compelled to announce that I was clothed, or had donned clothing according to the second usage in the American Heritage Dictionary on-line, as I sent the message. Nor were any of the first usage definitions relevant, as I have not been “Donned” (or labeled as) a Spanish man, a college tutor or professor, a mafia boss, or “an important personage.” (I do know some very nice men named “Don,” though.) Now I pay attention when I sign off, whether I have donned clothing or not.

Recently, I had another amusing episode with auto-correct. I intended to write the word “Facebooker,” as in someone who uses Facebook, in an e-mail. Auto-correct suggested “face poker” for my consideration. Had the Three Stooges or some coder with a sense of humor hacked my auto-correct? How did the word “poker” become a viable suggestion for “booker”? Couldn’t auto-correct intuit that a “face booker” might be someone who schedules appointments at salons for make-overs, and provide that suggestion, instead? Or perhaps a “face booker” might be someone who schedules head shots for models or actors? Had I been writing about playing cards, “poker face” would have made sense. But FACE POKER?!?

Of course, the obvious solution is to disable my auto-correct. However, eye be leave aye well con tin ewe two sim plea take mai chintzes. Besides, thus far, I am still a better smeller—oops, I mean speller—than auto-correct, even if auto-correct has a weird sense of humor.

NOTE: Even though spell check suggested “Facebooked” and “Face booker” as replacements for “Facebooker,” the Merriam-Webster dictionary associated with my version of Word has no definitions for those suggestions, nor does the American Heritage Dictionary. The American Heritage Dictionary on-line could not find a definition for “mai,” suggesting “mai tai,” the rum cocktail, but the Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines “mai” as “a slow Japanese folk or theater dance featuring hand gestures—distinguished from odori.” Again, grammar check did not flag the second sentence of the above paragraph.

Deltiology or Postcards: “A happy invention”

I grew up in Baton Rouge near “Delta” country. The American Heritage on-line dictionary points out this region’s relevance as “the home of some of the earliest blues music.” However, this happy occurrence does not make me a deltiologist. Deltiology deals not with the blues—at least not directly--but with the collection and study of postcards.

Many things, in addition to family and friends, make me happy. Potatoes, basset hounds, grocery shopping, and postcards come immediately to mind. As a child, I remember developing my writing skills by making grocery lists. However, I cannot remember exactly when I became enamored with writing postcards. As a child, I had many pen pals. Perhaps once my pen pals faded away in junior high school, I made up for this writing vacuum through writing postcards. I keep postcard stamps in my wallet so that I can spontaneously “postcard” someone easily.

Facebook before the internet

Recently, I read an intriguing account of the life of a vicar in Wales in the late 19^th century, “Kilvert’s Diary, 1870-1879.” In the entry dated 4 October 1870, Kilvert wrote, “Today I sent my first post cards, to my Mother, Thersie, Emmie and Perch. They are capital things, simple, useful and handy. A happy invention.” This entry caused me to ponder upon the history of postcards. According to the web site, The History of Postcards, as their popularity grew, postcards became a primary way to send friends and family a snapshot of surroundings while traveling, an early form of Facebook, or even photographs of home, family, or basset hounds during the Christmas holiday season. 

In discussing postcard history, the web site Smithsonian Institution Archives lists the “Pre-Postcard Period” as spanning the years 1848 through 1870, so Kilvert in rural Wales, was using the latest technology to communicate with family. Even in today’s Facebook world, postcard clubs exist. After all, you cannot hang Facebook posts on your refrigerator. I am a Facebooker. While technically I am not a deltiologist, I am very happy to be first and foremost a postcard enthusiast.

POTATOES!!!—WDSS? (What Does Shakespeare Say?) You WILL be surprised!

If I were marooned on a desert island with only one food, it would be POTATOES (white, not sweet)! Almost everyone who knows me knows that I love POTATOES as much as I love Shakespeare—and in my world, the two are comparable—supreme food for the soul and supreme food for the body. Recently, I decided to investigate what my literary love had to say about my culinary love, although I expected that Shakespeare had very little to say about potatoes.

Surprisingly, I found two references to potatoes in my Shakespeare lexicon. The first comes from “Troilus and Cressida.” In Act 5, Scene 2, Troilus, Ulysses, and Thersites spy on Cressida as she betrays Troilus by flirting with Diomedes, touching his face. Thersites, tormenting Troilus, comments, “How the devil luxury (lust), with his fat rump and potato finger, tickles these together!” A footnote informs that potatoes were regarded as a “sex stimulant,” thus Cressida’s “potato finger” has a seductive meaning.

In the second reference, Falstaff in “The Merry Wives of Windsor” is courting two married women in an attempt to scam money from them. In Act 5, Scene 5, they decide to teach him a lesson and arrange a meeting with him in a forest. One calls out to him and he replies, “Let the sky rain potatoes, let it thunder to the tune of ‘Greensleeves,’ hail kissing comfits (sweetmeats), and now eryngoes (an alleged aphrodisiac). Let there come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here.” He is saying that a rain storm of potatoes is a problem that would cause him to hunker down with this lady. Based on the fact that potatoes have an aphrodisiac quality, Falstaff chooses a potato storm on purpose.

In spite of my long-lived love of potatoes, I had no clue that they supposedly can serve as an aphrodisiac. I Googled “potatoes aphrodisiac” and found some interesting results. The first link came from WebMD, “Aphrodisiacs Through the Ages.”

An article on AlterNet, “Sex and Food: the World’s Strangest Aphrodisiacs Through Time,” discusses how at one time, potatoes were considered an aphrodisiac, citing Falstaff in “The Merry Wives of Windsor.” The article goes on to debunk the stimulating effect of potatoes. The piece notes the fact that while absence of something makes the heart grow fonder, the ready access of something does not. Once potatoes became commonly accessible, they supposedly lost their sex appeal.

Yet, an article from the PR Newswire reports on a baby boom beginning in 1997 on the island of Jersey in the United Kingdom associated with the Jersey Royal Potato season. The article quotes aphrodisiac expert James Sotte:

“Throughout history potatoes have been considered an aphrodisiac. Amazonian women ate them to stimulate their sex drive and in late 16th century Europe sweet potato tarts were recommended to increase sexual desire. The reason is that potatoes have the same affect on the body as chocolate; they increase serotonin levels. Insulin is produced when digesting potatoes, affecting the movement of amino acid from the blood to the brain, which stimulates serotonin production. Serotonin is the chemical that makes you feel happy and is similar to the feeling of being in love.”

Based on my newfound knowledge of potatoes as an aphrodisiac, perhaps I may want to rethink my choice of food if I am stranded on that deserted island alone!

NOTE: For my purposes in this blog, I decided not to define the word “potato,” as a definition would add nothing to my point. However, out of curiosity, I looked up “potato” in the on-line “American Heritage Dictionary.” The entry refers the reader to a note regarding the word “tater,” which intrigued me as a native speaker of the American Southern dialect. I included the link for those who are interested.