Groins and butts

“Groins” and “butts”—two words which refer to physical anatomy but are not acceptable in polite company. However, when referring to features of seascape and landscape, they may be used in conversations outside of gatherings of junior high schoolers. In other words, they do not always have to be the butt of Miss Manners’ disapproval.

I first discovered the acceptability of “groin” during our second sojourn to Folly Beach South Carolina. During the first sojourn, I passed a sign when walking down the alley to the beach almost every day. I never read the sign because I knew it was a sign telling me what I should not do on the beach, so I ignored it. During our second visit, some spirit possessed me to actually read the sign:

I had no idea that there were groins on the beach that might do me harm. I had seen numerous surfers and sunbathers, but I never felt threatened by their groins. Clearly, a type of groin existed that I did not know about. So I did the logical thing. I continued my walk on the beach, duly warned, and a few days later when I remembered the nefarious groins on the beach, I looked up the word, groin. I discovered that not only is a groin an anatomical feature, but also it is a feature of architecture. Certainly, it makes sense that vaults can have groins (see “Furnace” and “fornicate”: vulgar activities, for the relationship between vaults and fornication). However, the definition which applied to the beach refers to “a small jetty extending from a shore to protect a beach against erosion or to trap shifting sands.” Ironically, the beach groin could do me harm while saving the beach. Once we figured out what the sign warned us about, Richard took some pictures of groins – NOT human ones--on Folly Beach.

Anthony Trollope’s The Warden, opens with a situation involving a man named John Hiram who had “certain meadows and closes [an enclosed place, especially land surrounding or beside a cathedral or other building] near the town, still called Hiram’s Butts.” Soon thereafter, the work refers to “tenants living on the butts and patches.” I found it intriguing that a man could have a geographical area named after his “rear pelvic area.” The American Heritage Dictionary on-line defines “butt” in geographical terms as “an embankment or hollow used as a blind by hunters of wildfowl.” It identifies “butt” as an informal usage of “buttocks.” For all my relatives and friends who hunt ducks, geese, and such, the next time you head out to your wildfowl blind, you can tell whomever is around that you are carrying your bohunkus to your butt to do a little hunting!

I did a Google search using several different combinations of “butt” and “geography” in order to include a picture. However, the majority of hits involved instructions on how to take good butt selfies or celebrities who have posted pictures of their butts. I am not including those links here. You are on your own, if you are interested. :-)

The next time you attend a gathering that needs a little excitement, you may throw around the words “groin” and “butt,” knowing that you can defend yourself against accusations of juvenile humor.

Imminently Immanent or Immanently Eminent

Whenever I sit down to read a book, I make sure I have a sharpened pencil at hand. Over the years, I have developed the noble habit of correcting any errors I find for the benefit of the next reader. Recently, I ran across the word “immanent.” Immediately, I concluded that I had found a misspelling of either “imminent” or “eminent.” However, before I reached for my pencil, I reached for my dictionary, where to my surprise, I found that “immanent” is a word, which the on-line American Heritage Dictionary (AHD), defines as “existing or remaining within; inherent.”

The quality of “inherent” is important to understanding the concept of “immanent.” For example, I could not properly say, “I am immanent today,” in order to convey that I stayed indoors all day in my pajamas, drinking champagne and eating strawberries dipped in chocolate. (Actually, the word to describe that activity would be “decadent”!) A Google search reveals that the concept of “immanence” frequently refers to philosophical attitudes, specifically relating to religion and God. In my case, I can say I have an immanent belief in Shakespeare.

Not surprisingly, “immanent” comes from a Latin word meaning “to remain within.” Digging deeper into the history of the word, I found that “immanent” is a sibling of the words “mansion,” “manor,” “ménage,” and “permanent.” However, even though these words are related, we find some contradictions in meanings. While “immanent” involves intangible relationships, the other words involve tangible places or dwellings, although Elvis recorded a song, “In My Father’s House (Are Many Mansions),” combining the “immanent” nature of God with a mansion in heaven.

I also found that “immanent” is a cousin of “imminent” and “eminent”, through the Indo-European root, “men-“  However, with regards to “immanent,” “men-“ means “to remain,” but with regards to “imminent” and “eminent,” it means“ to “project, jut, threaten.” So while the words are related, the meanings of “immanent” and “imminent” and “eminent” go in opposite directions, from sticking out to staying in—a family feud of words, of sorts.

In closing, I want to relate a story of consulting the dictionary first from my junior high school years. When I was in 9^th grade algebra class, my teacher, Miss Tanner, wrote the word “horizontal” on the chalk board. My immediate reaction was she had spelled it wrong because the word sounded to me like “horizonnal.” Wisely, after class I went straight to my English classroom to look up the word. Indeed, Miss Tanner had spelled “horizontal” correctly. I went on that year to win the class spelling bee by knowing the difference between “stationary” and “stationery.” Now, when I have to say the word “horizontal,” I make sure to enunciate the “t” sound.

LAGNIAPPE: Since I used the word “immediate” a few times in this blog entry, I wondered if it might be related to all of the “im-“ words tossed about in this blog. It is not. “Immediate” comes from the prefix “im-“ meaning “not,” and the base “mediate” meaning “in the middle.” Put together, these parts of words mean “not in the middle,” or more specifically “occurring at once,” “near the present time,” or “close at hand.”

Run

Recently, I walked to town to run some errands. When I wrote this news to my daughter, the wording caused me to wonder why I didn’t write that I ran to town to walk some errands, or that I ran to town to run some errands. 

My first statement—I walked to town to run some errands--indicates that I traveled on foot to complete some tasks. My second phrasing—I ran to town to walk some errands--makes no sense, in that the English language does not recognize “walking errands” as an activity. I could run an errand to walk my dog but not walk an errand. My final phrasing—I ran to town to run some errands--indicates that I “moved swiftly on foot” to complete some tasks, when in reality I walked. I could have run to town, literally, to run my errands, as Center Street in Folly Beach spans a short seven blocks, with our condo bordering the beach side of those blocks. I would have become a bit winded, but I could have literally run to town to run my errands.

To address these musings, I consulted the American Heritage Dictionary (AHD) on-line.  I first thought the phrasing, “run errands,” might be idiomatic. Since idioms don’t translate literally, they provide challenges in understanding the nuances of any language. For example, a Mexican friend from my undergraduate days, once told me that I “ate what a bird would eat,” trying to say that I “ate like a bird.” My favorite idiomatic expression from French is an idiom for a hangover: “J’ai mal aux cheveux” literally translates as “my hair hurts.”

Was I speaking idiomatically when I used the phrase “running errands” to mean I completed them? When I checked the definition of “run” in the AHD, I found my answer not under idiomatic uses, but way down under transitive verbs, entry number 16: “to do or carry out: run errands.” My usage was literal, but it has nothing to do with bi-pedal locomotion!

My research ran on about the word “run.” For such a short word, it is quite a workhorse. The AHD on-line includes 31 entries for “run” as a verb, 14 as a noun, and 2 as an adjective. No wonder I got confused trying to sort out the meaning of “run errands”!  In addition, the AHD lists several examples of “run” in verb phrases, meaning the verb “run” followed by a preposition, as in “run into,” and several idiomatic uses of “run,” as in “run off at the mouth” (or in the current case, the keyboard).

The AHD also includes an interesting note under “Our Living Language” about regional use of “run” meaning “stream” or “creek” or “kill” in New York State. Merriam-Webster on-line discusses regional uses of “run” as the past tense, instead of “ran,” as in “I run my errands yesterday.”

In its beginning, “run” came from Indo-European roots associated with “run” and “running stream.” Does this origin mean that I am not all wet in my musings? Or have I run this topic aground? Perhaps, I should stop the running gag and run along before my readers start to gag!