When I was a
kid on the playground I heard this: ‘Sticks and stones can break my bones, but
words will never hurt me.’ How wrong it
was. The truth is, ‘Sticks and Stones
can break my bones, but words can break my heart.’ Or, scripturally: “…a soft tongue breaketh the bone.” (Proverbs
25:15) Words can also delight, comfort, encourage, and inform.
Loving words
and the English language as I do, I was
delighted a couple of days ago, as I drove to work listening to ‘Car Talk’ on National Public Radio
(NPR), to hear one of the Tappet (actually Magliozzi) brothers read a very
funny piece written by Jack Winter, from The
New Yorker, titled ‘How I Met My Wife’ (Car Talk program #1332, 10 August
2013). The piece used fairly common
words in unconventional, altered, and even unique ways.
It went something (I couldn’t find a
transcript) like this:
‘It
had been a rough day. So when I walked
into the party I was very chalant despite my effort to appear gruntled.
I was furling my wieldy
umbrella for the coat check when I saw her standing alone in a corner.
She was a descript
person, a woman in a state total array.
Her hair was kempt
and she moved in a gainly way.
I wanted desperately to meet her so I made bones about it.
Since I was traveling cognito I was not sure of
the impression I would make.
But then, for some reason, she looked in my direction
in a way that I could
make heads or
tails of it.
I was plussed.
It was concerting
to see she that was communicado. I
made only called for remarks.
I started talking with her about the hors d’oeuvres
trying to abuse her of the notion
that I was civic
But then the conversation became more and more choate.
We spoke at length to avail and I was defatigable and told her I had to leave at a godly hour.
I asked her if she would like to leave the party with
me.
To my delight she was committal. We left the party and have been together ever since.
I have given her all my love and she requited it.’
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In
an earlier broadcast of Car Talk
that dealt with words, I read another humorous segment titled ‘Learn More
Better English.’ It gave four ‘definitions’ that might bring a smile to your
face as it did mine:
Abdicate. v. To give up all hope of ever having a flat
stomach
Balderdash. n. A
rapidly receding hairline
Carcinoma. n. A valley in California notable for its heavy
smog
Flabbergasted. Appalled at how much weight you have gained
`````````````````````````````````````
I
have been reading (actually listening to on an audiobook) words used in quite a
different way by the 19th Century American novelist James Fenimore
Cooper. In the first published book of
his Leatherstocking series, The Pioneers,
Cooper tells the tale of the opening
up of the frontier region of the Ostego Lake region of New York. The book has a rich, opulent, romanticized
writing style that many today would find tedious but which I find very
refreshing as his many now-archaic words paint wonderfully descriptive word
pictures of early America and his highly disparate characters. I doubt if I will ever forget Natty Bumpo or
Chingachgook, or even Judge Marmaduke Temple’s highly obnoxious cousin
Richard.
I
have often thought how much clearer our communications with each other could
be, and misunderstandings lessened, if we used language with the precision
found in the great literature of the past.
“A
word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.” (Proverbs
25:11)
As
it is now, well, like, you know. . . .
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