A Way with Words - language, linguistics, and callers from all over

It's that time again, when people start thinking about a 'new or resurgent word or phrase that best captures the spirit of the past year.' And what a year! We heard the words 'bailout' and 'lipstick' more times than we'd ever dreamed, and saw also the rise of invented words like 'staycation' and 'recessionista.' What are your nominations for 2008's Word of the Year? 'Do English-speaking foreigners understand you better if you speak English with a foreign accent?' A Californian says that on a recent visit to Armenia, he discovered the locals had an easier time if he spoke English with an Armenian accent. Is this okay or could it be seen as condescending? 'Buckaroo' is an English word adapted from the Spanish word vaquero, meaning 'cowboy.' Is there a specific term for the linguistic process whereby such words are adapted into English? Martha nominates another Word of the Year candidate: 'Joe the,' as in 'Joe the Plumber,' and subsequent variations on the 'X the Y' formula arising from a certain drain-fixer's quarter-hour of fame. Quiz Guy John Chaneski stops by with a quiz about superlatives. Naturally, his name for the quiz is 'Best. Puzzle. Ever.' Why do we say someone's 'bright-eyed and bushy-tailed'? Your chipper, chattering hosts are ready with the 'sciurine' answer. 'http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=sciurine&r=66 An Indiana woman shudders every time anyone uses the expression 'comprised of.' She wants to know if she's right that it's bad grammar, and more important, is she right to be a stickler about it? Martha and Grant discuss some other Word of the Year candidates, including 'hockey mom' and 'hypermiling.' The term 'Chinese fire drill' can mean either a 'state of confusion' or the adoloscent ritual involving a red light and a carful of rowdy teenagers. But a caller who overheard the expression at work worries that expression might be racist. This week's slang quiz challenges a Seattle video game designer to pick out the correct slang terms from a mishmash of possible answers, including 'hammantaschen,' 'party party,' 'play pattycake,' and 'get off.' In 2008, is using the term 'jive turkey' politically incorrect, or just a little dorky-sounding? A Las Vegas schoolteacher jokingly used it with her students, then had second thoughts. Grant sets her mind at ease. It's raining, it's pouring, but the sun is still shining. Quick--what do you call that? Some folks refer to it a 'sunshower,' and others call it a 'monkey's wedding.' But a woman says her Southern-born mother used a much more unnerving expression: 'The devil's beating his wife.' Martha and Grant discuss the possible origins of this expression and its variants, like 'The devil is beating his wife and the angels are crying.' Around the world, this meteorological phenomenon goes by an astonishing range of names. In Lithuanian, the name translates as 'orphan's tears.' In Korean, 'a tiger is getting married.' Here's a list of many more, collected a few years ago by linguist Bert Vaux: http://www.linguistlist.org/issues/9/9-1795.html Which of the following three factors has the 'biggest influence on a person's accent'? Is it your geographic location, your family, or the media? -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write 24 hours a day: (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, words@waywordradio.org, or visit our web site and discussion forums at http://waywordradio.org. Copyright 2008, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It's a warm day in late autumn. You're out for a stroll in the country. If the air is still, and the sun is at just the right angle, you may see the glint of spider threads floating lazily in the air. Particularly at this time of year, some tiny spiders use an odd way to travel: They shoot out threads of their own silk, and then hitch a ride on the breeze. Entomologists call this technique 'ballooning.' Walt Whitman described it in a poem, writing of a 'noiseless patient spider' launching forth 'filament, filament, filament, out of itself. / Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them....' And the word for these silky threads? 'gossamer.' It's a beautiful word, gossamer--almost sounds like itself, doesn't it? This term's meaning has come to extend to anything 'flimsy, insubstantial, or gauzy.' .' Cole Porter sang of 'a trip to the moon on gossamer wings.' And Charlotte Bronte wrote of 'a gossamer happiness hanging in the air.' So how did spider silk ever get the name 'gossamer'? It seems the spider's filaments take their name from an old word for late autumn. In this country, that period is often called 'Indian Summer.' But in Britain, the same period was long known as 'St. Martin's summer,' a reference to Martin's feast day, November 11. Centuries ago, though, speakers of Middle English referred to this period as 'gosesomer'--a name that means 'goose summer.' Why the goose in goose summer? That's where things get a little hazy. The most likely explanation is that early November traditionally was the time when people feasted on fattened geese. In fact, an old German word for November literally translates as 'geese month.' The name for this warm period, goosesummer, was later applied to the phenomenon that country folk observed at that time of year, those silky, gossamer threads floating in the autumn air. It seems that over the years, just like those tiny spiders, the word 'gossamer' has drifted a long way. ... You'll find the Walt Whitman poem here: http://www.internal.org/view_poem.phtml?poemID=222 For more about gossamer, including Henry David Thoreau's fascination with it, check out 'Beneath the Second Sun: A Cultural History of Indian Summer,' by Adam W. Sweeting. http://tinyurl.com/56odbo -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write 24 hours a day: (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, words@waywordradio.org, or visit our web site and discussion forums at http://waywordradio.org. Copyright 2008, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

[This episode first aired September 13, 2008.] When you get to the end of a wonderful book, your first impulse is to tell someone else about it. In this week's episode, Martha and Grant discuss what they've been reading and the delights of great prose. An Illinois man recalls that as a kid, he used to mix fountain drinks of every flavor into a concoction he and his friends called a 'suicide.' He wonders if anyone else calls them that. Why a 'suicide'? Because it looks and tastes like poison? It started as a typo for 'own,' now it's entrenched in online slang. A Kentucky caller is curious about 'pwn.' It rhymes with 'own' and means 'to defeat' or 'to triumph over.' Our hosts talk about a special meaning of 'own' in the computer-gaming world. Quiz Guy John Chaneski is Havana good time with Martha and Grant on an round-the-world 'International Puzzle Hunt' that will leave you Beijing for more. You seem to hear it on all the television hospital dramas: 'stat!' A physician says she knows it means 'immediately,' but she doesn't know its origins. Quick! Is there a Latin expert in the house? A San Diego fisherman notes that he hears mariners talk about 'snotty weather.' 'Snotty?' Is it the kind that gives you the sniffles? Or is does it cop an attitude? Do you ever stare at a word so long that you think it's mispellllled? Even though it isn't? Your dialectal duo hunt up a word for that phenomenon. Grant and Martha reveal what books are on their own nightstands, waiting to be read. Just the top of the stacks, natch, because there are just too many. This week's 'Slang This!' contestant tries to guess the meaning of the terms 'liver rounds' and 'put the bite on someone.' An Indianapolis woman who grew up in the South says that when her slip was showing, her father used to say, 'Who do you think you are, Miss Astor'?' Martha shares other euphemisms for slips showing. If someone sidles up to you and says, 'Pssssst! Mrs. White is out of jail,' it's time to check your hemline. You can tell someone's an 'A Way with Words' listener when they confess to lying awake at night wondering about questions like, 'Are the words 'fillet' and 'flay' etymologically related?' A Minnesotan has been observing his infant babbling, and wonders if words like 'mama' and 'papa' arise from sounds that babies naturally make anyway. Are there some words or sounds that are instinctive? Or do they only learn them from their parents? -- Get your language question answered on the air! Usage, grammar, spelling, punctuation, slang, old sayings, other languages, speech, writing, you name it. Call or write 24 hours a day: (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, words@waywordradio.org, or visit our web Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Last year British slang lexicographer Jonathon Green struck a deal with the publisher Chambers Harrap to create an exhaustive dictionary of English slang. Now, says the London Telegraph, the first fruit of that relationship has appeared in the form of the Chambers Slang Dictionary. The main sources of slang, Green says, have remained the same: sex and sexual organs, drinking, and terms of abuse. But ,there are always innovations. The Telegraph offers some of them: boilerhouse, modern British rhyming slang for spouse. Jawsing, US teen slang for lying. And, muzzy, an Irish word for a naughty child. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/arts/main.jhtml?xml=/arts/2008/10/27/sv_slangmain.xml http://www.telegraph.co.uk/arts/main.jhtml?xml=/arts/2008/10/27/sv_slang.xml In the Paper Cuts blog of the New York Times, Jennifer Scheussler reviews 'On The Dot,' by Nicholas and Alexander Humez. It's an exhaustive look at the period or the dot, that little piece of punctuation that does so much. And I do mean exhaustive. The book is so digressive and sometimes so far afield of its subject matter that you might find yourself flipping to the front to make sure you're still reading the same book. http://papercuts.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/10/27/dot-everything/ In the discussion forum on that page, I discovered the 'fini.' This is a new piece of punctuation created by Dave Rosenthal, an assistant managing editor at the Baltimore Sun. The fini is a square instead of a circle. Dave says, 'A period is usually a fine way to end a sentence. But when there's a forcefulness attached to the words, I worry that the period will roll away. It is, after all, just a tiny black ball.' http://weblogs.baltimoresun.com/entertainment/books/blog/2008/07/the_endofdiscussion.html Do you want to find out what Virginia Woolf and John Steinbeck sounded like? They're part of an audio collection from the British Library, called 'The Spoken Word: British Writers.' It was discussed and played on NPR's All Things Considered. The audio is a rare find, as many recordings of the early days of radio were never saved. Recordings by George Orwell, for example, have yet to be found, even though he worked for the British Broadcasting Corporation. http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=96030704 -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write 24 hours a day: (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, words@waywordradio.org, or visit our web site and discussion forums at http://waywordradio.org. Copyright 2008, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week on 'A Way with Words': Feel like having a little 'hair of the dog'? Grant and Martha explain what dog hair has to do with hangover cures. And what do you call it when random objects form a recognizable image, like a cloud resembling a bunny, or the image of Elvis in a grilled cheese sandwich? With all this talk about this year's election ballot, did you ever stop to think about where the word 'ballot' comes from? Martha and Grant discuss terms related to politics, including 'ballot' and 'leg treasurer.' 'A fish stinks from the head down.' When an Indianapolis woman is quoted saying this, she's accused of calling the leader of a particular organization a stinky fish. She says she wasn't speaking literally, insisting that this is a turn of phrase that means 'corruption in an organization starts at the top.' Who's right? Dude, how'd we ever start using the word 'dude'? The Big Grantbowski traces the word's origin - it's over 125 years old. Quiz Guy John Chaneski drops by with a puzzle involving overlapping words. He calls it, of course, 'Overlap-Plied Linguistics.' If you're hung over, and someone offers you 'a little hair of the dog,' you can rest assured you're not being offered a sip of something with real dog hair in it. But was that always the case? Grant has the answer, and Martha offers a word once proposed as a medical term for this crapulent condition: veisalgia. http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=crapulent&r=66 A new resident of Pittsburgh is startled by some of the dialect there, like 'yinz' instead of 'you' for the second person plural, and nebby for 'nosy.' What's up with that? For a wonderful site about the dialect of that area, check out Pittsburgh Speech and Society. http://english.cmu.edu/pittsburghspeech/index.html If someone says he 'finna go,' he means he's leaving. But finna? Grant has the final word about finna. Good news if you've wondered about a word for recognizable images composed of random visual stimuli - that image of Elvis in your grilled-cheese sandwich, for example. It's pareidolia. Here's the article Martha mentions from wordorigins.org: http://www.wordorigins.org/index.php/site/comments/audio_pareidolia/ In this week's 'Slang This!,' a member of the National Puzzlers' League from Boston tries to guess the meaning of four possible slang terms, including 'labanza,' 'woefits,' 'prosciutto,' and 'moose-tanned.' At Murray's Cheese http://www.murrayscheese.com/ in Grand Central Station, the workers who sell cheese are called 'cheesemongers.' The store's opening up a new section to sell cold cuts, and workers there are looking for more appetizing term than 'meatmonger.' (Meat-R-Maids? Never mind.) Martha and Grant try to help. At sports events in North America, we enthusiastically root for the home team, right? But a woman from Kenosha, Wisconsin, says an Aussie told her that they most assuredly don't do that Down Under. There, he tells her, rooting means 'having sex.' Is he pulling her leg, she wonders? -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write 24 hours a day: (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, words@waywordradio.org, or visit our web site and discussion forums at http://waywordradio.org. Copyright 2008, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Here's a riddle: 'Nature requires five, custom gives seven, laziness takes nine, and wickedness eleven.' Think you know the answer? You'll find it in this week's episode, in which Grant and Martha discuss this and other old-fashioned riddles. Also: how did the phrase 'going commando' come to be slang for 'going without underwear'? And which word is correct: 'orient' or 'orientate'? To go commando means to 'go without underwear.' But why 'commando'? An Indiana listener says the term came up in conversation with her husband after one of them had a near-wardrobe malfunction. She mercifully leaves the rest to the imagination, but still wonders about the term. Grant says its popularity zoomed after a popular episode of 'Friends.' Watch the clips here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0JgkuNBuWI http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q--6wtCPHg8&feature=related A woman who grew up in India says she was baffled when someone with aching feet complained, 'My dogs are barking.' The answer may lie in a jocular rhyme. Martha is baffled when Grant shares another riddle involving 'four stiff standers, two lookers, and one switchbox.' Can you figure out the answer? To-ga! To-ga! To-ga! John Chaneski's latest quiz, 'Classics Class,' has the hosts rooting around for the ancient Greek and Latin origins of English words. Those who commute coast-to-coast are 'bicoastals.' But what do you call someone who commutes along the same coast--between, say, Miami and New York? A woman who now travels regularly between Northern and Southern California to visit the grandchildren wonders what to call herself. She's already considered and nixed 'bipolar.' The hosts try to come up with other suggestions. Remember when no one ever thought about adding the suffix '-gate' to a word to indicate a scandal? Now there's Troopergate, Travelgate, Monicagate, Cameragate, Sandwichgate, and of course, the mother of all gates, Watergate. Grant talks about the flood of '-gate' words inspired by that scandal from the 1970s. An Atlanta listener seeks clarification about the difference between may and might? Might 'may' be used to express a possibility, or is 'might' a better choice? In this week's slang quiz, a member of the National Puzzlers' League http://www.puzzlers.org from Somerville, Massachusetts tries to guess the meaning of bottle room and shred, as used in the context of snowboarding, skateboarding, and surfing. Do you cringe when you hear the words orientate and disorientate? A copy editor in Waldoboro, Maine does. She'd rather hear 'orient' and 'disorient.' The hosts weigh in on that extra syllable. They were the last words Abraham Lincoln heard before John Wilkes Booth assassinated him: 'Well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside-out, old gal--you sockdologizing old man-trap!' Booth knew that this line from the play 'Our American Cousin' would get a big laugh, so he chose that moment to pull the trigger. A Wisconsin listener wants to know the meaning and origin of that curious word, 'sockdologizing.' If you want to read the whole play, which has some silly wordplay and a dopey riddle or two, it's online at Project Gutenberg. http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/3158 Does one take preventive or preventative measures? A caller in Ocean Beach, California who just graduated from an exercise science program wants to know which of these terms describes what she's been studying. -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write 24 hours a day: (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, words@waywordradio.org, or visit our web site and discussion forums at http://waywordradio.org. Copyright 2008, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The British publishers of the Collins dictionary have announced 24 words on their endangered species list. They're words like 'vilipend,' which means 'to treat with contempt,' and 'nitid,' that's n-i-t-i-d, which means 'glistening. ' The editors warn that if they don't see evidence of these words being used in everyday speech and writing, they'll drop them from the dictionary's next edition. They've even set deadline for the doomed words: February 2009. But they've also offered the public a chance to weigh in, and vote for which words deserve a reprieve. Sure, it's a great publicity stunt. But I have to say that the thought of any word being voted off the lexical island makes me wince. I understand, of course, that culling the herd is a necessary evil. First, there's the economic reality of dictionary publishing--more words mean more pages, and more pages mean more costs per unit. Still, I have to tell you I was aghast to realize that on the list was one of my favorite words ever. The word is caducity--c-a-d-u-c-i-t-y. Caducity. It means 'perishability, transience.' More specifically, it can denote 'the infirmities that accompany old age.'   Caducity comes from the Latin word 'cadere,' which means 'to fall.' The same root produced other falling words, like 'cascade' and most likely, 'cadaver,' literally, 'one who has fallen.' So what I love about this word is that tucked inside it' is a picture of falling away, like leaves in autumn. You might speak of 'the caducity of fame' or the 'caducity of nature.' Or you might say, 'I worry about my parents' growing caducity.' There's a wistful beauty about this word. And it's not just poetic, it's musical. Listen: caducity. Contrary to what you might think, lexicographers say it's incredibly hard to coin a word that sticks around long enough to wind up in the dictionary. Same goes for self-conscious efforts to revive words that have become obsolete. But I'm convinced that 'caducity' has hardly outlived its usefulness. So I'm asking you to join me: Adopt it as your own. Use it. Drop it into casual conversation. Put it into a poem. On a vanity license plate--I don't care. Just use it. Another thing lexicographers tell us is that just because a word isn't in a dictionary, that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. So regardless of what the Collins editors decide in February, I'm going to hang on to this one. Then again, if we all start using it, maybe we can save this lovely word from, well, caducity. Check out the other words on Collins list here. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/3046488/Collins-dictionary-asks-public-to-rescue-outdated-words.html -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write 24 hours a day: (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, words@waywordradio.org, or visit our web site and discussion forums at http://waywordradio.org. Copyright 2008, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Reading the OED from A to Z (minicast) Word nerd Ammon Shea quit his job as a furniture mover in New York City to spend an entire year reading the entire Oxford English Dictionary. The result, in addition to eyestrain, headaches, and skeptics' puzzlement, was Shea's new book, Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 pages. Martha talks about what he learned along the way. http://ammonshea.com/oed.html Years ago, I covered a story for a sports magazine about Tori Murden, a woman trying row a 23-foot boat across the ocean. She set out from the Canary Islands with four months' provisions...and little else: No motor, no sail, no support vessel traveling along with her. And after 81 days, and 2,962 lonely miles at sea, she reached her goal, becoming the first woman ever to row a boat across the Atlantic. But for Murden, the challenge of rowing an ocean was nothing compared to the struggle of trying to explain why she'd done it in the first place: Why endure crushing boredom, blazing heat, chilling rain, blisters, and backaches day after day - all in order to row a little boat from one continent to the next?   Recently I thought of Murden while I was reading a book about, of all things, dictionaries. It's by Ammon Shea, and it's called...'Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages.' You see where I'm going here: When it comes to dictionaries, Shea is into extreme adventure. This book chronicles his quirky quest to scale the Mount Everest of lexicography: the great Oxford English Dictionary. Shea is besotted with words. In fact, he quit his job as a furniture mover in New York City in order to spend a whole year reading the OED. He writes that he did so to find out 'what words there are for things in the world that I had always thought unnamed.' And find them he did. Words like: Petrichor (PEH-trih-kerr). That's p-e-t-r-i-c-h-o-r. It means 'the pleasant smell of rain on the ground, especially after a dry spell.' You knew there should be a word for that, right? Or how about 'apricity'? That word denotes 'the warmth of the sun in winter.' Or how about 'balter,' 'to dance clumsily.' Now that's handy. Trudging though page after page, the author suffers headaches, eyestrain, and a growing ghastly pallor from long days reading in the basement of a New York. Fortunately for Shea, his girlfriend is a former lexicographer for Merriam-Webster - and, one assumes, an extraordinarily patient person. Shea's long march from A to Z is often exhilarating, sometimes numbing. His heart sinks upon realizing that the section of words starting with the prefix 'un-' -- as in 'unabandoned, unable' -- goes on for 451 pages. He write: 'By the time I've read one hundred pages I am near catatonic, bored out of my mind, and so listless I can't remember why I wanted to read any of this in the first place.' After pressing on through the letter U, Shea is rewarded with gems like velleity, which means 'a mere wish or desire for something without accompanying action or effort.' And zoilus. A zoilus is an 'envious critic.' As for the question 'Why?' Shea has a ready answer. He writes that he read the dictionary cover to cover because, quite simply: 'It was the most engrossing and enjoyable book I've ever read.' It's also why, after finishing the last page, he writes, he happily started over. And I thought I was a big word nerd. And now, I have to get back to some dictionary-diving myself. -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write 24 hours a day: (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, words@waywordradio.org, or visit our web site and discussion forums at http://waywordradio.org. Copyright 2008, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The world of politics tops this week's language headlines, including an explanation of the Bradley effect, and the ongoing debate over bilingual education. Also, what does the word fubsy mean? Grant has the answer, and reports about a new favorite blog described as 'LOLcats for smart people.' Ever since it started looking like Barack Obama was more than a long shot for his party's nomination, pollsters, and pundits have been talking about the 'Bradley effect.' It's when polls show a black political candidate way out in front. And yet, when the votes are cast, the black candidate barely wins or doesn't even win at all. As William Safire writes in the New York Times, the expression comes from Tom Bradley's loss of the governorship of California in 1982. Then, polls predicted that he would win, but, in fact, he lost by a small margin. Many people felt that Bradley, who was black, lost because hidden racists wouldn't admit to pollsters their true intentions. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/28/magazine/28wwln-safire-t.html Also in the campaign coverage is an ongoing discussion of bilingual education. Is it better to teach immigrant children only in English or should we teach them in a language they already know? http://tinyurl.com/5xrt93 That's the premise of a debate on the New York Times Education Watch blog. The presidential candidate's views come under some scrutiny by a couple of experts, but most interesting are the reader comments. One wrote, 'I am struck by how much the debate about the quantity of English in the classroom quickly devolves from a sensible search for the best strategy, to an ideological war that produces some very silly teaching strategies.' Speaking of campaigns, ever heard of the word fubsy? Well, British dictionary publisher Collins is threatening to cut that and other archaic words from its dictionaries. It's mainly a public relations effort, but they've succeeded in bringing out the word-lovers to nominate and mull favorite archaic words of their own. Fubsy, by the way, means 'short and stout.' http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/columnists/guest_contributors/article4798835.ece http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1847038,00.html And finally, it's the latest in a long line of many similar sites, but a new favorite blog is Wordsplosion. There you'll find photographs of English gone wrong. Like the grocery store sign that says 'dairy choices.' And under that it says 'cheese and cheese.' http://www.wordsplosion.com -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write 24 hours a day: (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, words@waywordradio.org, or visit our web site and discussion forums at http://waywordradio.org. Copyright 2008, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A listener in Brazil challenges Martha's pronunciation of the odd English word antipodes. Their email exchange leads Martha to muse about a favorite collection of poems, where she first encountered this word. ... Recently on our show, I made a linguistic boo-boo. Did you catch it? We were talking about the word 'podium.' A listener named Joel called to say that the word 'podium' originally denoted something you stand on. But more and more, people are using it to mean something you 'stand behind.' Joel was none too happy about that. I told him he was right about the roots of the word 'podium,' even though its meaning has changed. M: I feel your pain Joel. Absolutely, podium comes from ultimately from a Greek word meaning 'foot.' G: Yeah, but that doesn't mean -- M: Hear me out. Hear me out! It's like podiatrist, the doctor who looks after your feet. It's like antipodes, the people on the other side of the world from us, exactly. There's a big old foot in that word. J: There sure is! Did you catch my mistake? One of our listeners in Brazil did. Luciano emailed from Sao Paolo to say I'd mispronounced that word for people on the other side of world. A-n-t-i-p-o-d-e-s, he wrote, isn't pronounced 'ANN-ti-poads.' It's 'ann-TIP-uh-dees.' - he's right! 'Ann-TIP-uh-dees' means, as the Oxford English Dictionary puts it: 'Those who dwell directly opposite to each other on the globe, so that the soles of their feet are, as it were, planted against each other.' It's a poetic word, 'ann-TIP-uh-dees,' those Greek roots conjuring an image of people standing sole to sole, yet separated by an entire planet. The English word 'ann-TIP-uh-dees' was originally plural in form, referring to lots of people. The singular version, 'ANN-tih-poad,' came only later, by a process linguists call back-formation. In any case, my only excuse for mispronouncing the word is this: In elementary school, I'd seen that singular form, 'ANN-tih-pode,' and just assumed that the plural would naturally be 'ANN-ti-podes.' You may be wondering why an elementary-school kid would run into the word 'antipode' at all. Let me tell you about a book of poems that I just love. It's called 'Grooks' by Piet Hein. If you're not familiar with it, you're in for a treat. Hein was a 20th-century Danish scientist, poet, and designer. He was always trying to bridge the gap between art and science, which is probably why he counted among his close friends both Albert Einstein and Charlie Chaplin. He also wrote short, insightful poems in Danish, English, and another passion of his, Esperanto. Here's a pithy poem called 'Problems': Problems worthy of attack Prove their worth By hitting back. Nuff said. Here's one that he called 'A Psychological Tip': Whenever you're called on to make up your mind, And you're hampered by not having any, The best way to solve the dilemma, you'll find, Is simply by spinning a penny. No - not so that chance shall decide the affair While you're passively standing there moping; But the moment the penny is up in the air, You suddenly know what you're hoping. I tell you, I've used that tip more times than I can count. And finally, the poem that introduced me to the word 'antipode.' It will steadily shrink, our earthly abode, until antipode stands upon antipode. Then, soles together, the planet gone, we'll know the ground that we rest upon. The book is called 'Grooks' by Piet Hein. Here are some more examples of his poems. http://www.chat.carleton.ca/~tcstewar/grooks/grooks.html --- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write 24 hours a day: (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, words@waywordradio.org, or visit our web site and discussion forums at http://waywordradio.org. Copyright 2008, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices