A
fortnightly newsletter of words and everyday life
Issue #3 -
May 25, 2023
I. Bring the
Noise … and Maybe Something to Calm Your Stomach
Like a lot
of people, I enjoy sleeping. Unfortunately, I suck at it, which is a
round-about way of saying I don’t get enough of it. It’s not for a lack of
trying. See, on a given day, I typically fall asleep on the couch in our living
room around 11:30 pm or midnight, often with great ease. Then, sometime between
3:30 and 5:00 am, things get rocky.
Sometimes
I just wake up for no reason, sometimes I wake up because my coffee-filled
bladder sends my brain an urgent message about visiting the bathroom, and
sometimes my dogs, who start thinking about breakfast around 5, wake me. Whatever
the cause of this pre-dawn rousing, I eventually make my way to my bedroom, where
I attempt re-entry in the Land of Nod. I eventually get there, but it takes
some time. All too often, the walk from the couch to the bedroom is enough to
get my blood moving, making sleep that much more difficult. So I lay there,
staring at the ceiling, waiting for my eyelids to get heavy. And that’s when
the noise starts.
I don’t
know why, but in my little corner of the world, 5:00 and 6:00 am is prime time for
a few idiots who’ve been inspired by the Fast and Furious movie franchise to
drive their loudly modified cars through and close-by my neighborhood (and
home) at high speeds. I don’t know why—or why anyone would want such a car—but the
amount of noise these vehicles make is obscene. Even though the windows of my
bedroom are closed, it sounds like these cars are driving within a few feet of
my bed. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. Who are these people and what makes them think
such behavior is acceptable? Are they upset that they have to be up at that
ungodly hour, so they want everyone else to be up too? Whatever the reason,
these assholes should have their licenses revoked—and then forced to attend
common courtesy summer school classes.
Anyway, enough
about these Vin-Diesel wanna-bees. Living through this cacophony day-in and day-out
has me thinking about the word noise and its origins.
According
to the good people at Merriam Webster, noise has quite a few definitions.
Clearly, though, I’m interested in only this one: “sound, especially one that lacks an agreeable quality or is noticeably unpleasant or
loud.”
And where does this word come from? Interestingly, the Latin word
for nausea, which is … um … nausea. According to our pal Eric Partridge
and his Origins: A Short Etymological Dictionary of Modern English, the
connection between noise and nausea has to do with the timeless sound of “a
shipful of passengers groaning and vomiting in bad weather.” No wonder the
people driving the awfully loud cars in the early morning hours make me sick.
It's worth
pointing out that this connection, spurious though it may seem, is supported by
other etymological texts, including the Ayto Dictionary of Word Origins,
which can be somewhat contrarian. As it notes of noise:
Unlikely
as it may seem, the ancestor of English noise meant 'sickness.' It comes from Latin
nausea, (and of course, English nausea). This was used colloquially for the
sort of 'hubbub' or 'confusion' which is often coincident with someone being
sick (and particularly seasick, which was what nausea originally implied), and Old
French took it over, as noise, with roughly these senses. They later developed
to "noisy dispute, and modern French noise has retained the 'dispute'
element of this, while English noise has gone for the ‘intrusive sound.’
The Oxford Dictionary of Word Histories makes a similar ruckus and so
does the Chambers Dictionary of Etymology. In fact, the latter even
considers another etymological option and then abandons it die to lack of
evidence.
[Although] the tracing of the Old French to Gallo-Romance is now recorded in
most sources, it is difficult to accept the disparity of both sense and form,
which makes it tempting to suggest that noise may be related to the obsolete
English noisance a variant of nuisance: however, such a relationship is
not sustainable if the record of Middle English is accurate, for noisance
and its related words do not appear until at least 100 years after noise
and in most instances almost 200 years.
Let’s just assume that record is accurate, shall we?
II. New Words & Phrases (Or Words and Phrases New to Me):
The
Riff-Raff Are Naff
I don’t
recall exactly when I heard it, but it must have been on or around April 1 when
I encountered the word, naff, which was
uttered in a BBC radio segment about April Fools jokes in the media. Should
naff be new to you too, it means “lacking in style or
good taste, vulgar and unfashionable,” and although I don’t remember the context
of the discussion, it must have had something to do with the comedic value of media
outlets running fake news stories on this joke-filled “holiday.”
Rude Comments
Are One Thing, but Rude Health?
To continue with
the Britishisms for a bit longer, I am not shy about my affinity for the
British TV show Midsomer Murders. Not only do I love the show’s long and
winding storylines, but each episode is a treasure-trove of British slang. As a
case in point, the show recently introduced me to the idiom “in rude health,”
which means “strong and healthy.”
Interestingly, in its example of how to use the idiom,
Merriam-Webster offers, “We hope to find you in rude health
when we arrive.” This is not too far from how it was used in the episode of Midsomer
Murders wherein I was introduced to it. For in it, there’s a scene in which
the forthright and tireless Inspector Barnaby looks upon the corpse of a
notoriously rude man and says something to the effect of “… and here he is in
rude health.” Oh, that Inspector Barnaby ….
How Long Has
It Been Since You Touched Grass
The kids these
days … they’re so quick with the new slang for, well, just about everything. Thankfully
old geezers like me have the Internet, which helps me stay somewhat in the loop
and aware of what time it is. In fact, the Internet was where I encountered and
learned the meaning of the phrase “touch
grass.” Before I go on to tell you what it means, let me just say that, surprisingly,
I kind of like this one—and sometimes feel the same way.
According to Spieltimes.com,
the phrase “is used to describe the act of going outside and spending time in
nature to improve one’s mental health and well-being.”
Chatoyant-On
You Crazy Diamond!
I love email
newsletters. I love signing up for them and I love deleting them unread from my
inbox because I’m too lazy to read them. In this particular instance, however,
I did read one of the newsletters I agreed to receive for reasons I don’t quite
remember—the daily missive from (supposed) marketing guru Seth Godin—and that’s
where I encountered the word chatoyancy.
Chatoyancy is
defined as “the quality or state of being chatoyant,” which
is absolutely no help at all. However, the word chatoyant is defined as “having
a changeable luster or color with an undulating narrow band of white light.”
That is more helpful. So is the additional explanation of the word on
Merrian-Webster.com, which includes the following: “chatoyant, a word used by jewelers
to describe such lustrous gems (and by others who see the same luster
elsewhere). Chatoyant derives from the present
participle of chatoyer, a French verb that
literally means "to shine like a cat's eyes."
Is Phrogging
Just Extreme Squatting?
Among the most
troubling of the new words and phrases I’ve encountered lately is phrogging.
According to the website Lifehacker.com, is the practice of “living a rent-free
criminal existence hiding in occupied houses.”
Holy shit, is
this a real thing? Apparently it is and, apparently, it happens on occasion (at
least according to this
story). What’s important to know, from a criminological taxonomy
perspective, is that, as is noted in the article, “Phrogs aren’t squatters. You
squat in an unused house. Phrogs are not common thieves—those are all too real.”
(So, no, phrogging isn’t just extreme squatting.) The other thing to note is:
Supposedly,
there is an underground community of phroggers out there who don’t draw enough
attention to themselves to be the subject of news stories. They are said to
congregate on dark web message boards where they share tips for successfully
avoiding detection in strangers’ homes, and even post videos of homeowners
sleeping for bragging rights.
The last and perhaps most important
thing to note is that, if you think you have a ghost in your house, it might
really be a phrog. Again, as stated in the article:
Many news
stories of phrogging report that residents at first thought their house was
haunted. But ghosts aren’t real, so don’t hire a priest of a shaman to cleanse
your house—burning sage and sprinkling holy water doesn’t work on phrogs.
III. Art of the
Dictionary
Yeah,
dictionaries are all about words and meanings and etymologies and synonyms, but
believe me when I say that some of the books in the Butter Lamb Reference
Library contain some wonderful art. This section of Live & Learn aims to
highlight some of it, and spread the idea that dictionaries and references can
be treasure-troves of wonderful graphics and images too.
As yet
another case in point, I submit to you the following artistic rendering of The Devil
from the Larousse Dictionary of World Folklore, published in 1995.
From the
text: Devil, the
personification of evil, the opponent of God and good. Satan, from an Arabic word
meaning adversary, is in Semitic and Christian belief the archfiend who was
created an angel but whose pride and rebellion brought about his fall. He is
now the source of all evil, constantly attempting to thwart the good purposes of
God by winning the souls of humans for himself. In some monotheisms, and heresies
such as Manicheism, the Devil is one aspect of the single god, good and evil in
one person.
IV. From the
BLRL’s Collection
In this installment of “From the BLRL’s Collection” I present to you one
of my favorites, Oskar Seyffert’s Dictionary of Classical Mythology,
Religion, Literature, and Art. To say this is an impressive work is like
calling the Mona Lisa a pretty good painting. The scholarship that went into
this thing is obvious and the illustrations and dare I say even the typeface are
exquisite. In fact, I like this dictionary so much I have a hard time describing
it without an avalanche of superlatives. Therefore, instead of having me
blather on about how wonderful a book this is, I’ve decided to just reprint the
about-the-book text that appears on the inside flaps of its dust jacket. Enjoy.
The Dictionary of Classical Mythology, Religion, Literature, and Art is a comprehensive encyclopedia of the classical world. From the ancient gods and legendary heroes to the social institutions and customs upon which our own civilization is based, the world of the ancient Greeks and Romans comes to life in authoritative entries that range in length from a few lines to multiple pages. There are definitive biographies of important writers, philosophers, artists, and political leaders that include complete lists and detailed analyses of their known works. And, of course, there is information about all the classical gods and goddesses, heroes and heroines "genealogies," discussions of literary appearances, listings of geographic centers of veneration, as well as examinations of the god's or hero's varying characteristics over the centuries. In addition, there are entries for such great historians, philosophers, playwrights, poets, and artists as Apelles, Aristotle, Aristophanes, Aeschylus, Epicurus, Euripedes, Herodotus, Homer, Myron, Praxiteles, Seneca, Sophocles, Tacitus, and Thucydides.
Treated with similar thoroughness are such everyday objects as flutes, glass, helmets, lamps, masks, mirrors, and shields. Perhaps most intriguing are the comprehensive general essays on classical society and culture. Under the headings Adoption, Agriculture, Architecture, Banks and Banking, Books and Book Trade, Clothing, Coinage, Comedy, Commerce, Drama, Dreams, Education, Games, Geography, Gymnastics, History, Judicial Procedure, Literature, Marriage, Painting, Meals, Music, Philosophy, Religion, Sacrifices, Slaves, and Taxes, the social and cultural attitudes of the Greeks and Romans of the classical world are revealed in fascinating detail.
The text is complemented by more than 450 black and white illustrations, most of which are line drawings of ancient statues, vase paintings, residential murals, coins, buildings, relief friezes, and household artifacts. The Dictionary of Classical Mythology, Religion, Literature, and Art is the ultimate reference book for everyone who is interested in the great civilizations of ancient Greece and Rome.
If that
hasn’t spurred you to run out and grab yourself a copy of this book, I don’t
know what will. On the plus side, I often encounter copies of this text on the
shelves of used bookstores, so if you have a good one near you, keep your eyes
peeled for this text.
V. From the
Archives:
Where Is All This Productivity
“Leading” Us?
If I had walked by it on a
sign or a poster, the headline, “How one notebook could replace all the
productivity apps that have failed you” would have stopped me in my tracks. I
was sitting down when I encountered it, though, so I wasn’t in motion. In fact,
it didn’t stop me from doing anything, because I was at work, sitting in my cubicle,
browsing Twitter. I was not in any way being productive, but this headline, from
an article on the Popular Science website,
did get me thinking about the word productive and what’s required to have
such a label bestowed upon you.
As the headline suggests,
we’re all a little obsessed with being productive these days. (Although I can
assure you that no “productivity apps” have failed me — ever — because I don’t
use them.) Yet, I wonder: Do we even know what it means to be productive? In my
experience, most folks equate productivity with “getting things done” either at
work or around the house. But does productivity always have to result in some
product? Is productivity something that only happens at work or when you’re
engaged in some sort of labor? Can you be productive at something that others
might consider pointless or a waste of time (e.g., my work on this blog)? Can
you be a productive sleeper?
To begin answering these
questions, I reached for the biggest gun in my lexicographical arsenal: The
(compact) Oxford English Dictionary. It defines productive as
follows:
1.
Having the quality of producing or bringing forth; tending to produce;
creative, generative
2. That causes or brings about; that results in; causative
3. (In economics) That produces or increases wealth or value; engaged in the
production of commodities of exchangeable value; especially in productive
labor
4. That which produces readily or abundantly; fertile, prolific
As usual, I consulted
other dictionaries too and all define productive in similar ways, so
I’ll spare you the superfluous definitions. I will not, however, spare you a
trip down etymology lane, as peering into the word’s history was definitely
worth the effort.
The Oxford Dictionary
of Word Histories doesn’t have an entry for productive, so in this
instance, we’ll have to settle for produce.
Produce [late Middle English] The first sense recorded was
‘provide something for consideration’ (as in produced a contract). It comes
from Latin producere, from pro- ‘forward’ and ducere ‘to
lead.’ Current noun senses (as in farm produce, produce of their joint efforts)
date from the late 17th century. In the late Middle English period, the Latin
verb producere also gave riser to product (as a mathematical
term) from Latin productum ‘(something) produced.’ Production via Old
French from Latin productio; and early 17th century productive
from French productif or late Latin productivus.
The (Ayto) Dictionary
of Word Origins sings a similar tune.
Produce To produce something is etymologically to ‘lead
it forward,’ a meaning still discernible beneath the veil of the metaphor that
clothes the modern English word’s range of meanings. It comes from the Latin producere,
a compound verb formed from the prefix pro- ‘forward’ and ducere
‘lead’ (source of English duct, duke, educate, introduce, etc.)
Really, duke? I
didn’t see that coming. Strange as it might be, this is backed up the very long
Origins: A Short Etymological Dictionary of Modern English. This text doesn’t
have a proper entry for produce either. Instead, it directs the
reader to … wait for it … duke, where said reader finds the following:
“Latin dux, leader, hence chief … from ducere, draw to oneself,
draw on or along, to lead, conduct.”
It’s here that our
etymological journey ends and brings us back to the doorstep of productive, for
as Mr. Ayto so astutely points out, when you get right down to it, what we mean
when we say we’re being productive is simply that we’re moving things
along in the desired direction (aka: forward).
Yes, when we’re productive
we “bring forth” stuff, or our activity “results in” something, or creates
something of value (be it directly or indirectly). Our creative powers may even
be so productive that we earn a reputation as a “prolific” songwriter or
author. Yet, even in these instances, what we’re doing is moving things along
toward some desired goal.
Thus, herein lies the
answer to my initial question: Does productivity always result in some product?
The answer is yes, and that product is advancement or progress, which it’s
worth pointing out, may not be a physical thing.
So, in addition to being productive
at work or around the house, we can also be productive when performing
activities others deem a waste of time as long as what we’re doing leads
somewhere (like the long-overdue end of this post or fresh blog content). We
can even be productive sleepers as long as our rest leads us to feeling
well-rested.
And hey, if you made it
all the way to the end of this nonsense, I hope your efforts have led you to a
better understanding of the word productive.
VI. The Last
Word:
"To
many people a dictionary is a forbidding volume, a useful but bleak compendium
to be referred to hastily for needed information, such as spelling and
pronunciation. Yet what a dictionary ought to be is a treasury of information
about every aspect of words, our most essential tools of communication. It
should be an agreeable companion. By knowledgeable use of the dictionary we
should learn where a word has come from, precisely what its various shades of
meaning are today, and its social status."
—From the Introduction of the American Heritage Dictionary
of the English Language (1969)
