WORDS, WORDS, WORDS

 

 

I came across a new-to-me word while doing a puzzle the other day.  The word was “heteronym.”  Here is the most straightforward definition I could find:

 

“[O]ne of two or more homographs (such as a bass voice and bass, a fish) that differ in pronunciation and meaning.”   - Merriam-Webster.

 

I tell you this, not to present you with a word that might also be new to you, but to share my geek-ish excitement over the discovery. 

 

I experienced a similar delight this morning, when, once again, working on a puzzle, I learned that temperament has an “a” in it.  I hadn’t known this. I did know that temperature had an “a” in it, but English spelling is a tricky business, and it had not occurred to include an “a” in temperament.

 

As you may by now have surmised, I love words.  

 

I have loved words ever since I can remember -- ever since I sat in an overstuffed chair in my childhood living room, sounding out “See Dick run.  See Jane run.” ** This is one of those vivid memories, complete with physical details -- I can see and feel the nubby, brownish material of the chair -- that stick in the mind.  Who knows why?  I call them snapshot memories – nothing to surround them – they just loom out of a black hole. 

   

Here is a snapshot memory of me that a friend shared recently:  

 

It is maybe 40 years ago.  We are walking across Tenth Avenue in downtown Portland, when I ask her what she thinks about while walking around.  She, a yoga teacher, tells me she is always looking at people and thinking about whether their bodies are in alignment.  When she asks me the same question, I tell her I am usually thinking about words.  

 

I don’t remember this exchange, but it absolutely rings true. It is of a piece with my own word-related memories.  Here is one:

 

I am in my early twenties and am at the home of a much-older couple with whom I am friends.  I am telling the man, whom I much admire, about a dream or series of dreams, and I say, “They were just short vignettes, really.“   

 

Here’s the thing.  I pronounce “vignette” as “vidge-net.”  

 

Decades later, I can still remember the look that flickered across his face.  Was it surprise?  Suppressed laughter?  The man in question, being older and wiser and quite kind, refrained from saying anything. Bless him.

 

It was probably several years before I learned the word’s proper pronunciation.  Sadly, the passage of time had not erased the memory of my friend’s look.  I was retrospectively embarrassed.  

 

What can I say?  I had never studied French, but was an avid reader, scooping up words as I read.  I had a vast reading vocabulary.  That is, I had learned a great many words that I had never heard spoken.  With the passage of time, this memory no longer brings embarrassment, only compassion for a young woman who loved words, whether or not she could pronounce them.

 

One more memory.  I am in elementary school.  I am nine or ten.  For homework, we are to make a list of homonyms (not to be confused with the aforementioned heteronyms). This is right up my alley. But, do I stop at making the list?  Oh, no.  I am so pleased with my list that I staple it to piece of colored construction paper and staple another piece of construction paper on top as a cover, upon which I write these words:  

 

“Even though I am a busy teenager, I always have time for homonyms.”  I can still see the stick figure of a teenager that I drew alongside these words.  In memory, her skirt is a triangle, and she is carrying a purse.  I can still see myself proudly handing this creation to my teacher.  What was I thinking?  What did I imagine being a teenager would be like? Words and a purse, apparently.

 

As a matter of fact, I remained a word geek throughout my teenage years and beyond.  I memorized miles of poetry during high school and college – not by trying, but by osmosis, by reading the ones I loved, over and over again.  (To this day, I can recite many of these poems, but don’t ask me what I read last week . . .)

 

My love of words has not changed in the decades since I memorized all that poetry.  I am most happy when I am reading, writing, or thinking about words. Looking back, I see them as a major throughline of my life. 

 

And you?

 

What is it that has followed you throughout your life?  Where is it that you feel most aligned with yourself? 

 

                                                Photo by Glen Carrie on Unsplash

 

** Books for early readers have greatly improved since the 1950s.  If you are too young to remember Dick and Jane books, be grateful.