Good morning readers! After a long dark haul, it's finally, finally spring. Well, actually, it's not. Spring technically doesn't start until March 20. But with the sun shining and the temps hitting 60 degrees, it certainly feels like it. And I'll take whatever I can get.
Let's jump right into Words Nobody Uses or Knows in this week's issue. I found three in Rick Pender's critique of August: Osage County, which is running at the Clifton Performance Theatre until March 14. (Three? What's he trying to do?!)
My favorite word of the issue is donnybrook — it sounds a bit made up, doesn't it?
donnybrook: a scene of uproar and disorder; a heated argument (n.)
Fun fact: The word originates from the historical Donnybrook Fair in Donnybrook, a district of Dublin, Ireland. The Fair, according to The Google, began in 1204 (whoa ... it always blows my mind a bit when I realize how much more history other countries have) and ran annually until 1866. Apparently the "fun fair" was infamous for its drunken brawls. Hence, the use of the word donnybrook.
In this issue: "
The ultimate result is a family donnybrook, with Barbara forcing her mother into rehab."
Next best word in Pender's piece is miasma.
miasma: a vaporous exhalation formerly believed to cause disease; an influence or atmosphere that tends to deplete or corrupt (n.)
Appropriate, I think, because there was something about the word that reminded me of disease before I even looked up the definition. It's from the Greek word miainein, which literally means "to pollute."
In this issue:
"Ivy has been the dutiful daughter, keeping her life on hold for years while tending to her battling parents and their ills and idiosyncrasies and being badgered for not marrying; she’s sick of the miasma of bad behavior and more than eager to escape."
The third (but not last) word from Pender is vituperative, pronounced
"vahy-too-per-uh-tiv."vituperative: bitter and abusive (adj.)
In this issue: "
Hodges captures Violet’s vituperative nature, but allows a few cracks in her cantankerous façade to reveal the once vulnerable woman inside."
Of course, our lesson wouldn't be complete without an unusual word from Kathy Y. Wilson's piece "Mother and Child Reunion." It's actually one of my favorite stories in this week's issue. (Which I hope you've picked up already.) The word is mellifluous. It's a from the late Latin word mellifluus (15th century), where mel translates to "honey" and fluere translates to "f
low".mellifluous: (of a voice or words) sweet or musical; pleasant to hear (adj.)
Makes sense, right?
In this issue:
"The very first time I heard the plaintive and mellifluous baritone of Luther Vandross I was riding with my mom through a cold rain through the intersection of Kemper Road and Springfield Pike in Springdale coming from the old Thriftway grocery store."
