Words from the Collegiate--2007

After I spent the evening of April 30 "exchanging words" with Hal Prince in Palo Alto, CA (i.e., giving each other lists of good words to spell), he promptly went down to Long Beach on May 6 and won the Bee put on by a local guy. That Bee also drew Dave Riddle, the 2005 National Senior Spelling Bee champion and a marvelous speller. Dave was eliminated on a questionable call--misspelling "couscous" as "kouskous," which is also permitted in the Unabridged, but not in the Collegiate. I couldn't go, because I had some things to attend to in Oregon, but I have kept up my study of words. I am often more interested in the worlds a word can open than mastering an entire list of words. I think, however, that if you just spend enough time with the words, you learn 'em all. That should be my new motto in life--spelling is easy, if you just know everything.

I am emboldened to adopt this as my motto in life (after all, if Calvin had a burning heart for his, why can't I adopt "spelling is easy, if you just know everything"?) because I am impressed with the fact that every new word I learn is just a sort of "typical" word in the endeavor where the word is found. For example, I learned the word mamey yesterday. Well, all you have to do is go to the Google images page and you are taken to a tropical fruit nursery that sells these fruits--hard exterior and lush orange interior. I also learned that a mamey is the national fruit of Cuba. Then, it dawned on me. Yes, I too have fallen victim to the "anti-Cuba" propaganda that has rained down on that little island from this country for the past nearly 50 years. Everything about Cuba must be bad because some people didn't like Fidel taking over. Therefore, we in America are ignorant of Cuban realities. We don't know much about their fruit, their cigars, their women, their baseball teams... "It (the mamey) has the flavor and texture of sweet potato pudding and it is best served as a milkshake." So the site tells me. I think that it would be a great fruit to try. You see my point. I didn't know mamey, but the lowliest worker in the Miami tropical fruit nursery would know how to spell, describe and enjoy it.

Nineteen Other Words

Armed with this little joyous detail of living, I decided to go back to the Collegiate and comb through some words that I didn't know or may not know (sometimes it is hard to tell the difference) and which really are easy to learn because they are objects. You can take pictures of objects and post them online, and then the rest of the world knows what you mean. This is one of the most enjoyable ways for me to learn words--by looking at pictures and associating the image with the word. It is much easier to learn this way than, for example, to master 300 Greek and Latin-derived rhetorical terms when you can't really "see" what you are after. Here is the list of words that came across my desk late last night as I was leafing through the Collegiate:

"nunatak, nubuck, nymphalid, oast, obelia, ocicat, odontoglossum, olallieberry, ololiuqui, omasum, omeprazole, onium, opsonin, opuntia, pingo, rappee, ratine, rauwolfia, realgar.

Going Through the List

You know immediately that nunatak isn't derived from classical sources, but you don't know where it comes from. Maybe it is Native American--from one of those Massachusetts Bay tribes that bequeathed lots of words to us. And, what is it? Well, we can start with the definition, even though a picture will tell at least a dozen words. It is "an isolated peak of rock projecting above the surface of inland ice." Then I saw a picture. It is merely a nub of bare rock projecting upward from a glacial snow field. The rock isn't covered with snow because it is steep; snow can't gather on it. I never knew that this phenomenon had a name. I thought it was just a "rock without snow on it." But I was wrong or, at least, limited. It is a nunatak. Another site describes it as a "bedrock knob that rises above the surrounding glaciated area." Well, the OED then directs me to the word pingo, which it calls a rare word and defines as "a peak of rock that is covered by ice but remains distinguishable." Thus, a pingo differs from a nunatak in that the former has "thin or discontinuous permafrost." I can see why the term fell into disuse, however, since sometimes it is hard to tell whether it really has a sheet of ice over it or is just a nunatak. Can't you hear the geologists arguing?:

GEORGE (one geologist): "Hey Tom, look at that nunatak in yonder high ground."
TOM (responding): "You jerk, that isn't a nunatak, that is a pingo. Can't you see the thin layer of discontinuous permafrost?"
GEORGE: "You are the mistaken guy, Tom. There is neither brunazem, nor chorazem, nor verglas nor anything else in all creation that is covering that arresting nunatak before us."
TOM (becoming upset): "George, you are the one who needs to have his head examined. Why don't you visit your local eye-doctor upon return. And, while you are at it, why don't you get your head examined (or measured). Perhaps your local phrenologist can give the appropriate craniometric treament to you so that you can see what is really there.
GEORGE (attacking Tom): "Take that, you jerk!"

You see how things can degenerate rather quickly when people have different opinions? Well, the Collegiate has both words, so I will learn them both, and I think the terms are still distinguished in geology today; someday I will have to get it all straight. By the way, the term pingo originated as an Inuit word for a small hill--but from Greenland Inuits. Nunatak is also from Greenland, but it is a "Greenlandic" word. The latter came into English in the 1870s, while the former wasn't coined in English until the 1920s. Nineteenth century hymnologists may have thought that Greenland just gave us "icy mountains," though now we know that it graced (or glaced) us with at least these two words.

Nubuck, Nymphalid, Oast

I can't end the essay with only three new words. Let's finish with three others. Actually, if you sold shoes, the word nubuck would be a snap. It is simply a soft cattle leather with a texture similar to suede and can be used for shoes or jackets. Here is a picture of nubuck leather slippers. When I was in 6th grade, all the cool guys started wearing "bucks." I guess it was an abbreviated form of "nubuck," though I never knew it at the time. If the Scriptures encourage us to "go to the ant, you sluggard, and be wise," so the dictionary encourages us to go to fruit vendors, shoe sellers and loads of other "lowly" people to learn about the world.

Nymphalid is an adjective and refers to any of a family (Nymphalidae) of butterfiles with the first pair of legs being hairy, reduced in size and useless for walking. Now doesn't that open up a huge world for us? We could, as it were "mainline" on the taxonomical issues surrounding this word. "The true nymphalids include the admirals, tortoiseshells, fritillaries, and map butterflies. However, the family Nymphalidae is now often defined as to include other groups (esp danaids)...and satyrids...which share the characteristic of degenerate forelegs." My...degenerate forelegs. Not something that I would like to have. Well, we could talk about the etymology of the word (eventually coming to nymphomaniac, you can rest assured), or we could just look at tons of pictures of these beautiful creatures. Our pleasure would be nearly unending.

Finally, I learned last night, with the aid of a picture, what an oast really was. It is a "conical kiln used to dry hops, malt or tobacco." But then I looked it up and saw this picture of the Sparks Oast Farm in Kent, England. It is in a hops-growing region, and is now a "spacious" bed and breakfast. Just imagine the romance of sleeping in that kiln-shaped building. I think it would be hot!

So, we still have 14 words to go. At this pace, I will be incinerated by global warming before I finish the dictionary.

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