Challenge

On 25 October 2013 in the blog entry "(Re)Reading," I discussed my impressions upon re-reading books I had read in my younger years.  At the end, I issued a challenge to my readers to re-read.  I want to re-issue this challenge and encourage you to share your experiences in comments to this blog posting whenever in the future you find time to re-read.

I will start off with a "re-reading" of sorts.  I listen to a lot of books on CD, a habit I developed when I was commuting to Duanesburg.  On long trips, I listen to audio books.  Primarily, I pick books that I would like to read but will probably not read in print format, so I listen to them.  A few years ago, I listened to John Steinbeck's East of Eden and enjoyed the listening.  However, an issue with listening, especially while driving, is it is difficult to pay close attention sometimes.

Recently, a few different people commented that East of Eden was a very good book to read physically, that the act of physically reading was pleasurable, so I read the book on my Nook.  As I read, I knew much of what was coming and found this foreknowledge, for once, to be emotionally difficult.  In enjoyed the act of physically reading the book, but it is not a book I will read again. Steinbeck's prose, indeed, is artful, but it was too painful to reach certain points knowing the dire outcome.  Usually, I am a BIG advocate of re-reading, so I find it ironic to find a book that I enjoyed but would not re-read.  The level of emotions that Steinbeck captures indicates the prowess of his prose.

Travelin'

Greetings, as we embark upon another year in the journey of our lives. Life as a journey is a trite metaphor—except for the Grateful Dead’s “long, strange trip” of “Truckin’”--but when I last blogged, I had been traveling and have traveled since, both literally and metaphorically; therefore, words describing travel have been on my mind for a while.

Modes of travel have evolved over the millennia. When new technologies come into existence, words to describe them have to come from somewhere.  These words can be borrowed from existing technology or simply made up.  Sea travel evolved as the first great innovation in long distance travel. When train travel and air travel followed, many of the terms associated with sea travel transferred to train and air travel.

For example, boats in early years were known as “barks.” The American Heritage Dictionary defines “bark” as a sailing ship or “a small vessel propelled by oars or sails.”  The origin of this word goes back to the Greek referring to a flat-bottomed boat. When we put the prefix “em-,” as in “put into” or “surround with” in front of “bark,” we get the word meaning “to go aboard a vessel or aircraft, as at the start of a journey.” (I will also put forward a meaning of “embark” as what happens when our neighbor’s dogs bark—we are “embarked,” or surrounded by barking.)

In today’s world when we set out upon an odyssey, why do we not “emplane,” “embus,” or “emcar” ourselves, as in Richard and I “emcarred” in November and headed South? (In a recent reading of John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men, I did notice a usage when Adam as a soldier “entrains” to go somewhere for the military.) Instead, we board a boat, a plane, a train, and a bus, but not a car.  We simply get in a car and go. Why do we not board a car, as well?

Once we reach our destination, we deplane when we get off of a plane and detrain when we get off of a train. (Also, we “detrain” in more ways than one when we fail to keep New Year’s resolutions regarding diet and exercise.) However, we do not debus, deboat, or decar. We get off of the bus and the boat and out of the car. (I cannot help but allude to Tattoo on “Fantasy Island,” exclaiming, “De plane! De plane!”)

As you of friendkind embark on the journey of 2014, may your flight avoid turbulence, may you not miss your bus or your boat, may you have smooth sailing, may your train not derail, and may your trip move smoothly through any construction zones you encounter. Finally, for those of you who are inclined to embrace the metaphor, I wish you that “long, strange trip” about which the Grateful Dead sing in “Truckin’.”

LAGNIAPPE:  Going back to the Greek flat-bottomed boats, think of Homer and his archetype of the literal and metaphorical journey with The Odyssey. The war hero Odysseus’s ten-year delay in getting home after the Trojan War makes recent travel delays and cancellations due to inclement weather seem like a walk in the park.

Friendkind—a word gift

Recently, a friend had knee surgery.  Taking linguistic license in wishing him well on Facebook, I noted one wobbly step for him in recovery as one happy step for friendkind.  Later, I thought to Google “friendkind” and found no links.  As the holiday season engulfs us, I would like to offer this new-born word to describe the wonderful world of friends!

As I am still feeling a bit travel-lagged after three weeks of both joy and sorrow on the road, I am going to take a hiatus from blogging until January, 2014.  Season’s greetings to you all.  May you have a sweet and safe holiday, and may you all go forth in peace and friendkind.

Bed bugging hot shots

                In our recent travels, I have run across two familiar sayings that have taken on clearer meaning for me:  “sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite” and “hot shot.”  In touring historical sites in the South, we learned both Confederate and word history.

                People have been wished off to bed for centuries with the blessing, “sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.”  I always took the “sleep tight” part to mean “sleep snuggly” or “sleep safely.”  However, the phrase “sleep tight” actually means something entirely different.  We toured the Stonewall Jackson house in Lexington, Virginia and, in the bedroom, saw the mattress resting on a rope weaving.  I have seen these precursors of box springs before, and I knew that people kept keys to tighten the ropes to keep the mattress firm.  I did not know that “sleep tight” refers to tightening the bed ropes in order to sleep on a firm mattress.

                “Don’t let the bed bugs bite” is quite literal.  Bed bugs can come from a variety of sources.  In the olden days when mattresses were stuffed with straw and such, bed bugs came from those materials.  In parts of the South, people used Spanish moss, which contained chiggers (nasty biting bugs), to stuff mattresses.  Occasionally, I like to have fun with this part of the saying by wishing, “Sleep tight, don’t bite the bed bugs!” Henry Ford also used Spanish moss to stuff the seats of his early automobiles.  In fact, the phrase  “you’re itchin’ for a Ford” came from the chiggers.  Spanish moss also made for a “bumpy” ride not attributable to ruts in the road but bugs in the seats.

                If I have bugged you sufficiently at this point, you may want to get out a can of Hot Shot.  If not, keep reading.  I always thought of “hot shot” as a slang term for someone who had considerable prestige or influence, or at least thought so.  In explaining the conflict at Fort Sumter, the docent informed us that the Confederate army fired many cannon shots over a long period of time at the fort, to little avail.  Cold cannon balls cannot do much damage on thick brick walls or even inside the fort.  Finally, the Confederates realized that if they heated the cannon balls and then fired them, they would do considerably more damage.  Heated cannon balls fell onto the store of gun powder and caused an explosion which burned up part of the living quarters.  From this perspective, a hot shot is someone who can make things happen.

                As our tour winds down, I look forward to sleeping on my own firm mattress which does not require a key and we only encounter bed bugs when one of us irritates the other!