Hallux--you have two! Where are they?

When I was in elementary school I rode the bus to school. Our block had many elementary-aged kids living on it, so we spent a lot of time together on the bus and on the street. The younger of us learned many lessons from the older—lessons in life and school-types of lessons. In fact, I did not learn the word “epidermis” in science class; I learned it on the bus from the older kids.

Their teaching method, however, was not one I would recommend. One afternoon on the way home, the older kids taunted us younger ones with “Your epidermis is showing.” We wriggled and pulled on clothing, to no avail. Embarrassed, we made every adjustment we could possibly think of to our book bags and anything else in reach. Finally, as the bus neared our stop, they relented and told us our skin was showing. When it came time to learn about the word “epidermis” in science class, the kids on our block had a rueful advantage.

Recently, I learned another arcane term relating to body parts, this time not from neighborhood bullies but from a crossword puzzle. The clue was “hallux,” and I got the answer by getting enough letters from other clues to verify the word in the dictionary. Instead of manipulating your possible ignorance of the word, like the bullies on the bus, I have written a riddle to see if you can guess the meaning:

I am essential to maintaining your balance. I also provide a canvas for art. To children, I am known for going to market. What am I?

Here are the answers to the clues: I am essential to maintaining your balance. (Think of the digits of a foot.) I also provide a canvas for art. (Think of a cosmetic treatment of the feet and toenails.) To children, I am known for going to market. (Think of “piggies” in a nursery rhyme.) If you have not guessed by now, the “American Heritage Dictionary” on-line provides the answer: hallux: “the innermost or first digit on the hind foot of certain mammals. The human hallux is commonly called the big toe.” When I get a pedicure, I have a design painted on the nail of my halluces. Here’s hoping you do not stub your hallux!

NOTE 1: Frequently, nursery rhymes have hidden meanings which tell stories, such as of the plague or of political abuses. “This Little Piggy” is one of the few that exists simply to entertain children!

NOTE 2: I also learned a second vocabulary word on the school bus, this one from the bus driver—reprieve. We had been acting up and the driver threatened to report us to the school principal. The next day, she informed us she had granted us a “reprieve.” We learned a new word. We must have learned to behave better, too, because I do not remember the driver having to threaten us with unknown vocabulary words again.

Shoegazing

Like many women, I love shoes! My husband finds it amusing when I pack a suitcase full of shoes for travel along with a toothbrush and change of clean underwear. On the street or in the mall, if he sees a shoe store nearby, he tries to steer me away from it. Actually, I am very good about window shopping but not buying. I gaze at unique shoes with zippers, unusually colored shoes, shoes with fun heels, saddle oxfords, huaraches. At home, I secretly surf the web for purple boots or red suede walking shoes. Rarely do I buy, but I also have to admit that I have a small foot, so these days finding shoes in my size proves quite challenging. So I look and long.

Imagine my surprise recently when I came across the word “shoegazing” while looking up another word in the dictionary. (I was even more surprised that my picture was not next to the word.) I have heard of stargazing, but shoegazing? As it turns out, the action of shoegazing does involve looking at one’s feet, but in a specific context. The “American Heritage Dictionary” on-line defines shoegazing as “a genre of popular music characterized by droning, electronically modified sounds, typically performed and listened to motionlessly with the eyes cast downward in introspection and often under the influence of psychoactive substances.”

Never having heard of this activity, I immediately completed a Google search. I found two helpful articles, “Shoegaze: a beginner’s guide,” and “Where to start with this enigmatic music known as shoegaze.” Evidently, shoegazing first originated in Britain in the late 1980’s and currently is undergoing a resurgence. I listened to a song or two. I found the music alluring, although I was under the influence of caffeine, if that substance qualifies as a “psychoactive substance.” As tempting as it is to become a musical shoegazer, I am going to stick with gazing at “durable covering for the human foot, made of leather or similar material with a rigid sole and heel, usually extending no higher than the ankle” in shoe stores and on web sites.

Odysseus the Odious (or Let’s Take a Ulyssiad!)

“All along the southbound odyssey/ The train pulls out at Kankakee . . .”

Only a poet with the humor and imagination of Steve Goodman would rhyme “odyssey” with Kankakee in his classic song, “City of New Orleans.” “Odyssey” is not normally a word I think about, even when planning a trip. However, a few weeks ago, I received “Odyssey” as the word of the day from the “Oxford English Dictionary” e-mail list. The definition contained nothing surprising: “(The name of) one of two great hexametric epic poems of ancient Greece traditionally attributed to Homer (the other being the Iliad).” The second definition covers the common noun meaning of “odyssey” as “a long series of wanderings; a long adventurous journey.” Imagine my surprise, however, when I read that the source of the name of the traveler, Odysseus, comes not from a word that reflects epic grandeur, but from a Greek word meaning “to hate” and the Latin “odium.” The entry notes, “Odysseus was thought to be so called because he was ‘hated by gods and men’.”

Having taught “The Odyssey” several times as a cross-curricular unit with Global Studies, I am aware of Odysseus’s foibles. As a teacher, and as a female, I gave him little quarter when it came to his infidelities with Circe and Calypso. (Note: If you have not read Margaret Atwood’s “The Penelopiad,” the story of “The Odyssey” from Penelope’s point-of-view, I highly recommend it.)

While Odysseus did display other examples of bad boy behavior--such as taunting the Cyclops or endangering his men by demanding that he alone hear the song of the Sirens--he looked after his men very ingeniously. The fact that none of them made it back to Ithaca alive testifies to their own bad judgment, not to a failure to lead on Odysseus’s part.

Odysseus is better known for his cunning than his bad behavior. After all, he came up with the ruse of the Trojan Horse, which finally put an end to the 10-year Trojan War. Out of curiosity, I looked up the Latin equivalent for Odysseus, Ulysses, in the “OED” and found this definition: “Used as the type of a traveler or adventurer;  . . . also, a crafty and clever schemer.” I also found the adjective “Ulyssean” meaning “resembling Ulysses in craft or deceit, or in extensive wanderings.” Does Odysseus deserve the loathing associated with his name?  He did displease Poseidon, and the gods took sides for and against this intrepid traveler. Interestingly, his Greek name reflects the gods’ displeasure with the epic hero, but his (roamin’) Roman name reflects his clever accomplishments, giving the epic hero some credit.

Next time you embark upon an odyssey and have an unpleasant time, you can blame it on Odysseus the Odious. Occasionally on “Be-Worded,” have suggested new words. (See “friendkind” and “pixelography.”) In defense of Ulysses, the Clever, I am going to propose a new word for those journeys we take which have pleasant twists and turns: ulyssiad. Maybe in the future, a clever lyricist in the tradition of Steve Goodman will craftily rhyme “ulyssiad” with a place, creating another classic in the world of songs about travel.

NOTE: A Google search of “ulyssiad” turned up an old book, “The Ulyssiad: An American Epic,” by Eliza Madelina Wilbur Souvielle, published in 1896. As best as I can tell, this book involves Ulysses Grant and the Civil War on some level.