Weird Word Wednesday!

Tags

Albert Einstein, cleaning, Diet Pepsi, Greek, Groucho Marx, history, humor, rewards, vending machine, weird word, weird word wednesday

We have two loyal readers and the Greeks to thank for today’s Weird Word Wednesday. That word is paraprosdokian. 

A paraprosdokian is a figure of speech “that sets us up to expect one thing, but ends on a surprising semantic twist.” Thanks to alphadictionary.com for that helpful explanation. Like this:

Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.

I experienced a paraprosdokian just this morning and didn’t even know it. It’s finally warmed up here in Wisconsin, so today I planned on opening up the basement door, hauling our junk outside, and vacuuming and sweeping the walls and ceiling. Sounds like fun, right? Wouldn’t you think all that effort deserves a little reward? Me, too.

So after my morning workout, I went to the vending machine to buy a Diet Pepsi. I thought about how dusty and tired I’d be after hours in the basement, and how refreshing a DP would be. I stuck my money in the vending machine – it spat back a nickel or two, but finally cooperated. I pressed the tab for a Diet Pepsi – kaching! – anticipating the satisfying thunk of the bottle falling into the tray below. But my only reward was a little red light that said “OUT OF STOCK.”

I pressed the tab a couple more times, just in case the machine was being ornery. No dice. I flipped the change lever. Once. Twice. No dice. I felt a mini black cloud coalescing over my head – the nerve of this machine to deprive me of my reward!

Bill Watterson

I gave up and lugged my gym bag home. When I started researching the history and uses of paraprosdokian I found the one that applied to me:

Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.

Get how the twist is amusing? Groucho Marx used a paraprosdokian when he said “I had a wonderful evening – but this wasn’t it.”

Or Albert Einstein, who supposedly said ““The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits.”

Paraprosdokian comes from two Greek words, “against,” and “expectation.” There are even websites devoted to them, like this one.

This short clip shows how to pronounce this tongue twister. I’m off to clean the basement…

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Thumbs Up Tuesdays Five

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book review, David McCullough, Edmund Morris, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, history, Ken Burns, PBS, Peter Collier, Theodore Roosevelt

It’s the last week of my “Thumbs Up Tuesdays” series. I’ve shared four other favorite books (find links below) and today I’m celebrating all things Roosevelt.

Sunday night I watched Part One of The Roosevelts: An Intimate History on PBS. As always, filmmaker Ken Burns did a wonderful job sharing the history and development of this influential family. The series has people talking, among them UW-Green Bay professor Harvey J. Kaye. He gives a nicely balanced view, noting that Burns’s “failure to deeply appreciate popular struggles from the bottom up, especially the struggles of the working people, leads him to obscure too much of our past and essentially inhibits our understanding of the making of history.”

While I appreciate Kaye’s idea, the real focus of The Roosevelts was just that: the families of Theodore and Franklin Delano Roosevelt and the role they played in shaping American history. The working people are part of the story, central to how both men led: as police commissioner, Theodore took to the streets to make sure his men weren’t taking bribes and believed class distinctions had no place in democratic society. Franklin’s New Deal changed the government’s relationship to its people.

Instead of sharing just one book for Thumbs Up Tuesdays, the PBS program inspired me to take out several of my favorite Roosevelt books and share them here, in no special order:

by David McCullough

The Roosevelts by Peter Collier with David Horowitz

Theodore Rex and The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt by Edmund Morris

Mornings on Horseback by David McCullough

I’m partial to David McCullough – I’ve read many of his books and thoroughly enjoy his writing style, which makes history seem a very real and necessary thing to know and learn from.

That’s also why I’m enjoying The Roosevelts on PBS. This seven-part, fourteen hour film follows the clan for more than a century, starting with the post-Civil War years when America was redefining itself and its role in global affairs. The Roosevelts – Theodore and Franklin – used their personalities and influence to mold and guide America along its path, which at times was murky and uncertain.

The men had faults: Theodore could be a brash steamroller, overly enthusiastic, at times too eager to make things happen. Franklin came across as patrician and aloof, letting people think they had influenced him when he had no intention of following their lead.

Interesting, isn’t it, how they are both considered great leaders despite, or maybe because of, these character traits.

If you missed earlier “Thumbs Up Tuesdays,” here they are:

Thumbs Up Tuesdays One

Thumbs Up Tuesdays Two

Thumbs Up Tuesdays Three

Thumbs Up Tuesdays Four

 

Feeling Nobbled? Breeze Over to Pemberley…

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Belmont Stakes, Colin Firth, history, horse racing, Jane Austen, Jess Witkins, Kentucky Derby, murder mystery, mystery, PD James, Preakness, Pride and Prejudice, reading, TBR Challenge

Fellow blogger Jess Witkins is participating in the 2014 TBR Pile Challenge, hosted by Roof Beam Reader. The idea of the TBR Pile Challenge is basically to stack up 12 books you’ve always wanted to read, and take a year to read them. I’d have problems with that, in a good way. If a stack of 12 books was in front of me, I couldn’t parcel them out to last a year. I’d end up with hungry, suck-cheeked kids, wearing clothes from last week, a family neglected while I devoured my books.

Speaking of books, I just finished Death Comes to Pemberley by P.D. James. The legendary British mystery author is a longtime favorite of mine, and this book is a continuation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, with a murder thrown in for good measure.

Ahem, confession here. Cough…Squirm…Up until a few months ago, I couldn’t stand Pride and Prejudice. I tried to read it, I really did. But I couldn’t hack it and returned the book to the library, satisfied when I heard its echoing thump in the return bin. Why, you ask, couldn’t I hack it?

Marry the girl, already!! I thought when Darcy agonized over Elizabeth. Or don’t!! Either way, get off the fence and DO something, man! (And don’t even get me started on Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth’s overbearing, obnoxious mother. Yikes!)

Then my daughter had to read Pride and Prejudice for her high school English class, and asked for help deciphering the plot. Egads, I thought, feeling like I’d rather endure a root canal than a repeat of Mrs. Bennet trying to cajole and wheedle yet another soldier into marrying one of her daughters.

We ended up borrowing the PBS version of P&P from our neighbors. Honestly, I was prepared for my eyes to cross and glaze over, but you know what? I got hooked. Absolutely, totally hooked. What would Darcy do next? Why didn’t Elizabeth become putty in his wealthy hands? Questions swirled around in my head. 506 minutes on two discs? Not a problem for us! Full steam ahead, my daughter and I plowed through the miniseries in record time. And loved it.

I have many of P.D. James’s books in my collection, and when I saw Death Comes to Pemberley at the library, I snatched it up. Basically, Darcy (bless his heart, he finally married Elizabeth like we knew he would…) and Elizabeth are preparing for their annual autumn ball when Lydia Wickham, Elizabeth’s disgraced sister, arrives at Pemberley, shrieking and sobbing because she thinks her husband has been murdered. He hasn’t, but it’s 1803, so there’s no NCIS or DNA to get Wickham off the hook. Wickham goes to trial, and Darcy worries that the men of the town have been so stirred up by events that an impartial jury is impossible. The lawyer he’s hired, Henry Alveston, discusses the juror situation with Darcy, saying things are so serious that questions regarding fairness, jurors who might be nobbled, and judges who could be bribed by the opposition to turn against Wickham make things dire. (p. 144)

Nobbled??  I put the book down for a minute. Nobbled? I never heard that word before, so I looked it up. Nobbled means “to convince by fraudulent methods; misrepresent or lie to,” or even “to drug or disable a race horse to prevent its winning a race.”

I’m also a big horse racing fan, and never miss the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, (this Saturday, people!) or the Belmont Stakes if I can help it, so it was fun to learn that nobble can be applied in several different circumstances.

California Chrome

So, since confession is good for the soul, I’m admitting that I might be willing to dig into Mansfield Park or Sense and Sensibility…just so long as I can find some cool words to share here.

…and no Mrs. Bennet to nobble things up…

Happy reading to anyone doing the 2014 TBR Challenge! And go California Chrome in this Saturday’s Preakness!

 

 

 

Flash Fiction Friday and the HeSo Project

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Beethoven, Flash Fiction Friday, history, Moonlight Sonata, The HeSo Project, writing

I have to give a shout-out to Tracy at The HeSo Project. She’s been hosting Flash Fiction Friday for a while now, which she explains here. Tracy asks readers to share one sentence that she wittily crafts into a compelling short story.

I took a stab at it earlier this week, and she chose my line for this week’s Flash Fiction Friday. It all started with the Kohler Moxie shower head that we recently installed. That thing is cool – it pairs wirelessly with a Bluetooth-enabled device to play music, news, whatever, for up to seven hours. (We’d run out of hot water long before then!)

Beethoven

Earlier this week, one of the kids was using the Moxie in the shower, playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, a reflective, moving piece. Composed in 1801, it’s thought that Beethoven wrote it for Countess Giulietta Gucciardi, his 17-year-old pupil.

It just so happens I was reading Tracy’s prompt for Flash Fiction Friday when the water was running, and it inspired my line:

“The shower water hissed down, echoing as it splashed in the tub. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata poured from the Kohler shower head, filling the bathroom with brooding tones.”

Tracy turned it into a well-done short piece that left readers wondering what happened next. Read it here.

Check out The HeSo Project when you get a chance – Tracy’s always up to something interesting!

It’s a Miffy, Squiffy Weird Word Wednesday

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Benjamin Franklin, creative writing, Downton Abbey, history, humor, Jane Franklin, miffy, patience, squiffy, weird word, writing

Book of Ages

Over the holidays, I spent a lot of time reading. Thanks to a suggestion by Paul Huard, blogger at “The Shout Heard ‘Round the World,” I read Book of Ages: The Life and Opinions of Jane Franklin by Jill Lepore. Jane was Benjamin Franklin’s sister, mother of 12 children, and writer of many letters to her famous sibling.

When Jane wasn’t busy making soap, avoiding a revolution, or raising her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, she poured out ideas on paper, giving us a wealth of information about her life as it unfolded.

Not all her children reached adulthood, and as Jane aged, she became the caretaker of several. Her husband, Edward Mecom, was a saddler who left the family financially broke. Two of Jane’s sons went insane, and later, Jane took in boarders to make ends meet.

Isn’t it understandable if Jane became a little cranky sometimes?

When Josiah Flagg, one of Jane’s grandsons, contacted his famous great-uncle Benjamin, hoping for some help establishing a career, Jane, according to Lepore, was mortified.

“Tho he is my Grandson & I wish him well settled to something he can git his Living by I am Angry with him for his Audacity in writing to you on such an Acount,” Jane wrote to Benjamin. She accused Josiah of having “too Proud a Spirit to conform to the occupation he was Taught” and refused to recommend him.

Lepore said Jane was “uncharacteristically uncharitable.” Later Jane relented, writing apologetically to Benjamin:

“I am sorry you are as it were forced to bare the Burden of soporting my whol Famely,” Jane said. “He is the son of a Dear worthy Child; his sister was Remarkably Dutyfull & affectionat to me & I wish him well but should never consented to his throwing himself upon you.”

Lepore said Jane “regretted having been so hard on (Josiah), in her first, and miffiest letter.”

What a wonderful word! According to dictionary.com, miffy means “touchy; inclined to take offense.”

Who hasn’t been a little miffy from time to time, especially where errant children are concerned?

Let’s meet miffy’s partner for today, squiffy.

Alfred (r) as the bus approaches…

We have the wildly popular PBS TV show Downton Abbey to thank for this gem. In Series Three, Episode Eight, Lord Grantham waves the authorities off his property by throwing his footman, Alfred, under the bus, albeit in very upper crust tones.

“I’m very much afraid to say he was a bit squiffy, weren’t you, Alfred?” Lord Grantham says, one regal eye on the authorities, the other on hapless Alfred, who is forced to nod in mute agreement.

Squiffy means “slightly drunk,” and in this case, Alfred was nothing of the sort, even though he manfully shoulders the blame without flinching. One would think he’d have a right to feel miffy about this turn of events, but wasn’t.

As Benjamin Franklin said, “He that can have patience can have what he will.”

Royal Helicopter Mom Storms Weird Word Wednesday…

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Austria, France, French Revolution, history, humor, Marie Antoinette, Marie Teresa, weird word, writing

I hear a lot about Helicopter Moms, those parents who hover over their children’s lives, micromanaging every play date and homework assignment. This isn’t a recent development, though. Stick with me as we learn more about this centuries-old bad habit…

I’m reading Marie Antoinette by Antonia Fraser. It’s a nice look at the Austrian princess, born Maria Antonia Josepha Johanna on November 2, 1755, the 15th child of Empress Maria Teresa and Emperor Francis Stephen.

The Emperor died in 1765, leaving Maria Teresa alone to find a husband for Maria Antonia, then 10. Our Weird Word Moment happens right around this time, as Fraser explains that “(Maria Teresa) allowed nothing, neither mourning nor Joseph’s promotion, to interrupt her sedulous policy of planning her children’s marriages.”

In this case, sedulous means “diligent in application or attention; persevering.” Hmmm…was Maria Teresa a Royal Helicopter Mom?

Back then among royals, marriage was serious business, more a means of cementing alliances between countries than finding a soul mate. Sure, love may have blossomed later…maybe…but that wasn’t the main ingredient of those marriages. According to CBC News, “personal affection and romance were secondary to…diplomatic and political reasons.”

Marie Antoinette

At the beginning of 1767, Maria Teresa had five daughters left to be married off. Fraser reports that she looked at Maria Antonia with “a critical eye,” noting the young girl’s crooked teeth, short-sighted eyes, and uneven shoulders. A system of “pelican” braces were installed to fix the first dilemma; the second received nothing short of a political spin: “short-sighted” was renamed “a misty look” and the uneven shoulders were remedied with clever padding.

Sedulously, Maria Teresa turned to the southwest, finding a mate for Maria Antonia in the form of the Dauphin of France, himself a sketchy prospect. Not his parents’ favorite, Louis Auguste was described as lacking in self-confidence, heavily built with a tin ear and myopic eyes.

These minor difficulties didn’t stop Maria Teresa. On May 16, 1770, when Maria Antonia was 14 and Louis Auguste was 15, the couple was married at Versailles. Fraser said an earlier marriage by proxy happened in April in Vienna.

Even though Maria Antonia, now Marie Antoinette, never saw her mother again, that didn’t stop Maria Teresa from continuing her sedulous behavior. Letters to her daughter prodded her on proper court behavior, how to handle Louis Auguste’s father, King Louis XV, and how to win over the French public. Not a letter went by without some sort of motherly/Queenly advice, helicopter parenting from afar.

“It’s not your beauty, which frankly is not very great,” wrote Maria Teresa in one letter. “Nor your talents, nor your brilliance (you know perfectly well that you have neither).” 

Ouch! Maybe Marie built the Petit Trianon, her beautiful estate on the grounds of Versailles to not only escape court life, but her mother’s stringent missives! We visited her getaway this September – compared to the over-the-top grandeur of Versailles, the Petit Trianon seems almost simplistic in its design. With only one story, the palace spreads out, rooms filled with light and beautiful furniture.

Living room at Petit Trianon

By 1793, both Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI were dead, victims of the barbarity of the French Revolution. By then, the couple had learned to care for each other, having four children in the process.

And if she didn’t escape death, Marie Antoinette at least escaped the fate of her older sister, Maria Carolina. Their mother’s sedulous devotion to their marriage prospects resulted in Carolina marrying the “ill-educated but well-meaning” King Ferdinand.

“Although an ugly prince, he is not absolutely repulsive,” Maria Teresa attempted to console Carolina. “At least he does not stink.”

King Ferdinand

Weird Word Wednesday!

Tags

cheese making, food industry, hats, history, humor, religion, snood, strange word, turkey, weird word, writing

Welcome to Weird Word Wednesday! This gem was emailed by a young reader, and I’m glad she went out of her way to share with us. Today’s word is (drumroll, please…)

SNOOD

Snood

Officially, a snood is “the netlike hat or part of a hat or fabric that holds or covers the back of a woman’s hair.” The word itself dates back to the 700s. Snoods traditionally have religious significance, worn as signs of modesty; in other cases, they served a practical purpose: they were an easy way to keep a woman’s hair from falling out in her face.

During World War II, fabric was rationed; as a result, hats weren’t the elaborate creations they had been at the turn of the century. Snoods came into fashion as a stylish hair covering that used less material, and could even be knitted at home.

Modern snood

Nowadays, snoods have been fashionably revamped. Some have “slid” from women’s heads, found around their necks instead. They make a fashion statement that I doubt women in the 700s even considered. I bought one from Lands’ End last year, and it makes our Wisconsin winters just a bit cozier!

Snoods still have their place in the technology and food industries They’re worn as head coverings in cheese making plants, and places where food is served. When I was a kid, the lunch ladies at my grade school wore snoods to protect us from accidentally ingesting any hair that fell into our tater tots.

Snoods are also an indicator of health – if you’re a turkey. That red, fleshy-looking piece of skin hanging over a turkey’s beak is, indeed, a snood. The snood turns bright red when a tom wants to attract a mate, changing to blue if the turkey is frightened. I’m envisioning toms with blue snoods being chased by angry females here! If the turkey isn’t feeling well, the snood turns pale.

So turkey or not, snoods definitely have their uses – here’s to happy Snood Wearers everywhere, and feel free to share any weird words you come across. I’d be glad to turn them into a feature for the next Weird Word Wednesday!

John D. Rockefeller Meets Laura Ingalls Wilder

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books, gardening, history, John D. Rockefeller, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House on the Prairie, philanthropy, reading, Standard Oil, weeding, writing

For years, I’ve enjoyed studying John D. Rockefeller, industrialist and one of the founders of Standard Oil.

John D. Rockefeller

Admired and reviled, he was an astonishing philanthropist, someone whose business ran others out of their business. Like him or not, John D. Rockefeller revolutionized industry and changed the meaning of philanthropy as he gave away much of his fortune.

It’s not as well known that Rockefeller also used his single-mindedness and focus as a writer. Considering he had plenty to occupy his day, John D. scoured his work with a careful eye, writing and rewriting until he had a tight, well-crafted document.

It isn’t really about spewing words on a page – it’s about staying on-message, weeding out words that don’t bloom where they’re planted.

A few years ago, the kids and I were reading the Little House on the Prairie series by Laura Ingalls Wilder. We learned that Laura and her sisters each had only one or two toys.

A corn husk doll. A ball. That was probably it.

We decided to give this a whirl. Books went back on the shelves, Matchbox cars were stowed in their boxes, dolls tossed in the toy box. Each kid chose two toys, and for the next few hours, that’s all they played with.

At first, it was exciting.

Wow! I’m just like Laura Ingalls Wilder!

It didn’t take long for this exercise to turn into a perceived restriction. Just two toys? What can I do with them??

But like many other situations, a perceived restriction often spurs creativity. The kids shared the toys, pooled their efforts and had fun together.

It’s a bit like writing – we have thousands of words at our disposal, but we really only need a few of them. Revising isn’t a fun part of writing, but it’s very necessary. I tend to do a “word dump,” writing all at once. But I never submit my work afterward. Instead, I step away, and if possible, let at least a day pass before I return and start hacking away.

That restriction is a lot like gardening – pull the weeds, and you’re left with work that blooms.

How do you “weed” your writing?

The Power of Words

Tags

Arabic, blessing, Egypt, Greece, history, Italy, language, power of words, travel, traveling, words, writing

Think about the last time words moved you. A quote that had you reaching for pen and paper; wedding vows that made your heart stop, or a speech that rocked you to greater goals.

In September, 2011, we took a trip to Italy and Greece. Many moments there were powerful in their own right – treading the same stones that Julius Caesar had at the Roman Forum? Hard to wrap my mind around. Dining in the shadow of the Colosseum? Everything tasted better with such a spectacular view!

Our view of Athens from the Acropolis

And walking between the immense columns of the Parthenon, staring out over the rooftops of Athens left me silent. Do modern-day Athenians take this view for granted? Forget that one of the world’s most iconic images looms above, day after day, watching?

One of the most powerful moments came on the last day of the trip. We woke, excited to be finally heading home, but torn by the the whisper of unrealized opportunities: new foods to try, side streets to explore and the endless, thrilling possibilities of just one more day in a foreign country.

In a room overlooking the Aegean Sea, we gathered to say goodbye to our traveling companions, scattering across the world to homes in New Zealand, Australia, Ireland and the United States. In the middle of goodbyes, the lady from Egypt stopped me.

Until now, we hadn’t exchanged much more than pleasantries, but I had seen her kindness to others: a woman from California lacked the necessary shoulder covering to enter The Vatican, so the Egyptian lady loaned her a beautiful scarf; she ate meals with different people and carried on friendly conversations with each person.

Aegean Sea on our last day in Greece

But now it was my turn. She grabbed my hands and started speaking in what I assumed was Arabic. She knew English – I heard her accented English many times on our trip – but for some reason, she spoke to me now in Arabic.

As I stood there, holding her hands, feeling the power of her words, a sudden comprehension flooded me with the knowledge that this was a blessing. I felt the power of that blessing reach across cultures, languages, and generations, straight from her heart and through my hands.

She finished, smiled, and walked back to her husband. I opened my mouth to call her back, to ask her to repeat the words in English, but I stopped.

The language didn’t matter; the power of her words did.

When have words changed you? Left you a little bit different than you were before you heard them?

Lincoln’s Secret to Great Writing…

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Abraham Lincoln, author, Bixby letter, Gettysburg Address, history, Second Inaugural Address, writing

I enjoy studying our 16th president, Abraham Lincoln. I have shelves of books that examine his speeches and letters, and I’m inspired by the almost-Shakespearean way Lincoln has of funneling deep meaning into few words.

Perhaps his most famous speech is the Gettysburg Address, given on November 19, 1863. Its compassion and straightforward message were exactly what the nation needed, although they wouldn’t fully realize this until after the war, when they would begin to “bind up the nation’s wounds.” Lincoln’s words had gained weight since he first spoke them.

Visiting the Gettysburg National Military Park was a moving experience – I hadn’t expected the battlefield to be so vast, or the stillness to be so powerful. Later, I had the opportunity to stand in the spot where Lincoln stood when he delivered the Gettysburg Address, dedicating the Soldier’s National Cemetery. Being a part of history, even in a small sense like that, is very meaningful.

I’ll always be a great fan of both the Gettysburg Address and Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address. I admire how Lincoln, in both instances, set aside his personal issues to address the nation’s deep needs – not his vision for the future, or his goals for his administration, but what the nation needed at that very moment.

One of my Lincoln favorites is The Bixby Letter, written in 1864 to a widow, Mrs. Lydia Bixby. Expressing his condolences on the loss of her sons during the Civil War, the letter reveals Lincoln’s helplessness as he struggles to console her:

“I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts, that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming.

  But I cannot refrain from tendering to you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours, to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.”

The Bixby Letter

Authorship of this letter has been debated for years. Some historians think John Hay, Lincoln’s secretary, was the true author; others maintain it was Lincoln. The tone is reminiscent of Lincoln’s other writings – eloquent, yet conveying his humanity and awareness of a wider scope of events. It’s also contested that not all of Lydia Bixby’s sons died in battle – that only two did, while another was honorably discharged and one deserted or died a prisoner of war.

That aside, the writing is powerful and moving, considering the situation under which Lydia Bixby and Lincoln both labored. In a few short sentences, Lincoln conveys almost everything we need to know, leaving us feeling a higher moral purpose. Like good writing should.

But since good writing – and interesting places –  impact each of us differently, I’d like to hear what’s made a difference to you. What has moved you? Filled you with purpose? Called you to action?