We take a Word Back: What to make of make?

In my 5/21 post, I brought up a term: word back. Used in a sentence: "I want my word back." Words in my English language have been stolen by corrupt people with no clue about the word's origins and what it really means. This is a travesty in my book, and I have a really big book on my side: The Oxford English Dictionary or, as we English majors call it, the O.E.D. Many of our public libraries used to have the book splayed open on a stand. Oddball students such as myself could peruse at their leisure, or make a beeline to it during a heated argument over the origin of a word or phrase. Yes, heated arguments about words. How I miss those. And the main reason I went dateless most of my college career.

Today's word is "make." And yes, it's the first word in the acronym MAGA. Those are the four words I will tackle during the next couple weeks. They are real words, not just initials on a red ballcap. 

What are we to make of make? Let the O.E.D. be our guide.

I hate to begin with a downer but, to save time, I must. Make can be a noun. In fact, it is a variant for maggot. Here's an example from Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” circa 1604: “Your worme is your onely Emperour for dyet, we fat all creatures els to fat vs, and wee fat our selues for maggots.”

In more modern terms, we have this line by Mae West in 1930's "Constant Sinner:" "The double-crossin' heel! The garbage-can maggot!"

You don't see "make" in there. But, it is a variant which means it's rarely used except by historical fiction writers and time travelers. But the reference comes alive in 2025 because critics poke fun at MAGA followers by calling them MAGATS or MAGHATS or just MAGGOTS. We don't use the term as it's below our station to do so even though it's hilarious. 

Make is usually used as a verb that means to produce. Let's let Merriam-Webster have a crack at this: Make (transitive verb): to bring into being by forming, shaping, or altering material; to lay out and construct, to compose or write.

Back to the O.E.D.: The earliest known use of the word is in the Old English Period pre-1150. It has Germanic roots. It's use in Old English includes references in literature, music, and religion. 

Does the O.E.D. have anything to say about sexual references in popular culture? I didn’t look. But I have some examples. Let's make out (kiss, etc.). “Making Whoopee” (song about kissing etc.), "I want to Make It With You," a popular 1970s song by Bread which is really about sex as in "Love the One You're With" or so says Stephen Stills. Let's make a baby is a line used by married couples in rom-coms. "Wanna make sex?" is not a common term although it has been used in dingy bars at closing time.

"To make" is a very positive act. A maker is one who makes. A Makerspace is a place dedicated to making things usually artwork. My artist daughter visits a local Makerspace. Many public libraries have makerspaces in their children's/teens sections. Many of these libraries are under attack by Trump & Company and local right-wing kooks. Many makerspaces are funded by government grants which are being eliminated by the GOP-controlled Congress.

Makers, themselves, are under attack for being too woke and not appreciating all the MAGA Goodness spread like fairy dust by Donnie and Elon. Arts workers jobs are being eliminated along with budgets for state and local arts agencies as well as the National Endowment for the Arts, National Endowment for the Humanities, and the Institute of Museum and Library Services. To tell an artist he or she can't make any more is absurd. That's like telling us not to breathe. But it will hurt all of us, this pilfering of money for the arts and humanities. 

Merriam-Webster lists these antonyms (opposites): Dismantle, destroy, eradicate, abolish, take apart, etc., etc.

To Make. Think about it.

The lone hollyhock in my garden

Lone Hollyhock

My version:

Only one stalk this year. Hollyhock rises among the bachelor buttons and coreopsis. Elbows its way up, beefy stalk, heart-shaped leaves as big as, well, a human heart, if the human heart was shaped like a valentine heart. A cluster of buds promise alcea rosea flowers in magenta, fuchsia, pink, and one I’d like to see, Queeny Purple, which promises a royal presence, a long reign.

Alcea rosea marched from Japan and China all the way to the Middle East and into my 21^st-century garden. Twelfth century crusaders made a salve from the pretty flowers. They rubbed it on their horses’ rear legs (the hocks) to relieve the soreness of many rough miles. Those few holy warriors who made it back to Merry Ol’ told tales of a beautiful flower that grew in the Holy Land that eased their horses’ hocks. It became Holy Hock changed by a monk to Holyoke and later given its present name. Hollyhock was born.

Hollyhocks are in the disjointed Mallow family that includes okra, cotton, hibiscus, and marsh mallow which found its way into s’mores, a staple of every summer campfire. Think of a mallow camp surrounded by hollyhocks, okra in your gumbo, shirts of cotton, hibiscus for your true love, and the dessert ritual of gooey s'mores.

My hollyhock is alone out there in the garden, blooming the magenta of nature, the magenta of the inkjet canisters on his laser printer. A storm is coming. West winds whip the hollyhock. It ticks like a metronome, the rhythm of a horse’s hooves on the hard rocks of Judea, the Cajun beat that rocks the fais-do-dos, that marshmallow smear my wife licks from her upper lip.

I asked AI to make mine more descriptive. This is what happened:

In my garden this year, there stands a remarkable sight: a solitary hollyhock stalk amid the colorful company of bachelor buttons and coreopsis. Its robust, heart-shaped leaves are as large as a human heart, and a cluster of promising buds foretell an imminent spectacle of alcea rosea flowers in vibrant hues of magenta, fuchsia, pink, and the intriguing Queeny Purple. This resilient plant, alcea rosea, has a rich history, journeying from Japan and China all the way to the Middle East before finding its place in 21st-century gardens. Legend has it that 12th-century crusaders used a salve made from these exquisite flowers to soothe their horses' sore legs during their arduous travels. Tales of a magnificent flower that grew in the Holy Land and its beneficial properties to the knights' trusty steeds eventually led to the transformation of Holy Hock into Hollyhock, a name that has endured through the centuries. It's fascinating to think of hollyhocks as part of the disjointed Mallow family, which also includes okra, cotton, hibiscus, and marshmallow – the very ingredient that adds sweetness to the timeless tradition of s'mores enjoyed around summer campfires. As the storm approaches, my lone hollyhock bravely stands, presenting blooms that mirror the vivid magenta of nature and the modern inkjet canisters. Exposed to the whipping winds of the approaching storm, it maintains a steady rhythm reminiscent of a horse's hooves tapping on the hard rocks of Judea or the infectious beat of a Cajun fais-do-do, elevating the marshmallowy treat enjoyed by my wife, licked from her upper lip.

The things that tickled me:

The knights’ trusty steeds

Colorful company of bachelor buttons and coreopsis

marshmallow – the very ingredient that adds sweetness to the timeless tradition of s'mores enjoyed around summer campfires.

A 21-century editor wouldn’t like the overuse of adjectives and adverbs. 

The AI version reads more like the style of a traditional 17^th-century poem. Without the rhyming couplets.

Boring old college lecturer responds to "The Chair"

Watched the last episode of "The Chair" this week. I laughed, I cried. Various faculty and administrators and students pissed me off.  All in all, a good investment of six Netflix hours. 

I have never served time on a college faculty and I've been an adjunct at community colleges. I was an undergrad English major at one community college and a land-grant university in the Palm Tree South and a grad student at a land-grant university in the Rocky Mountain West. I never got within spitting distance of a small liberal arts college such as Pembroke. 

But Pembroke's people seemed familiar. As a grad student T.A., I experienced some of the same frustrations of Pembroke faculty, those f*cking f*cks referenced in The Chair's (F*cker In Charge) desk sign. Some faculty members were old and stuck in their ways. The Literature, Composition and ESL faculty didn't like creative writing faculty and vice versa. The administration was always targeting the English Department for cuts due to the fact that we all speak English so why in the f*cking f*ck do we need an English Department? Shouldn't it be the  'Merican Department since we all speak 'Merican here? 

All an MFA grad student could do was teach our two sections of comp, keep our heads down and write a lot. We had regular classes to attend on top of writing workshops. And, in my case and some others, I had a family to support. 

One of my favorite aspects of "The Chair" are insights into faculty's families. Dr. Ji-Joon Kim has a daughter who is as argumentative as faculty ("You're not my real mom"). Dobson's wife died and his only daughter went off to college. No matter he gets stoned before and after class, and sometimes doesn't show up at all. Dr. Joan Hambling gave up her personal life and career advancement to prop of the fragile egos of male colleagues. She is working on a relationship with a college IT guy who is as much as a wise-ass as she is. Dr. Rentz (Bob Balaban) chats with his wife before a college event and we find out that she gave up her academic career to raise three kids. "Someone had to cook dinner," she says as she urges her aging husband to wear his Depends.

My daughter, an English major, is watching "The Chair" but I don't think she's finished. After a couple episodes she was angry at the students, which I thought was interesting since she is a student and a Millennial. I was angry at the students too but possibly for a different reason. They didn't want to learn Chaucer and Melville? I fondly recall my red-haired prof at UF who taught us Chaucer in Middle English. She spoke it like a native and there were times I imagined her as The Wyf of Bathe. 

The Pembroke students just didn't want to learn it the old-fashioned boring Boomer lecture way. They liked the way Moby Dick was taught by Dr. Yaz, a Millennial who approached it in a new way. By the end of the final episode, I was depressed about the state of academia. No surprise -- I was a boring old lecturer and probably still am. Back in my day, etc., etc., and so on. 

Hunkered down, somewhere in Wyoming, part 4

I suddenly wondered if I was using "hunkered down" correctly in my headers. Is it redundant to use the two together? Is it enough to say that I am hunkering in my house during the pandemic? And, yes, I do have too much time on my hands to wonder and ponder which, for some reason, are pronounced differently.

Hunker is a Scots term, first noticed by linguists in the 18th century. An online dictionary described it this way: "squatting on the balls of one's feet, keeping low to the ground but still ready to move if necessary."

I haven't hunkered since my spinal injury two years ago. I can neither squat on the balls of my feet, keep low to the ground, or move if necessary. I can crouch, if necessary, but struggle to get back up again. I could say that I am "sitting down, somewhere in Wyoming." But that doesn't quite capture our present plight. Hunker implies that I am responding to a threat, something that makes me want to take cover instead of stand or sit.

Other languages recognize "hunker." In Dutch, it is huiken. In Old Norse, huka. Germans say hocke. The Scots have even turned a verb into a noun with the phrase "sitting on one's hunkers." All civilizations, it seems, have had to huka down at some time in their history.

Ben Zimmer explored the history of "hunker down" in a September 2017 Wall Street Journal feature. Hurricane Irma had blasted through the Caribbean and U.S. and Zimmer noticed the many times that TV reporters used the term "hunker down." Orlando Sentinel editor John Cutter noticed an uptick in "hunker down" as Irma approached Florida. He invented a drinking game in which every mention of the now-cliched phrase prompted listeners to take a shot. A neat idea but probably redundant as Floridians are pretty good at taking shots during hurricanes, especially monstrous ones such as Irma. A hurricane and a pandemic share a lot of qualities. Hunkering seems appropriate in each case as does a few shots of Jack.

Our neighbor Colorado found this out the hard way. Denver Mayor Michael Hancock announced that liquor stores and marijuana dispensaries would be closed to thwart the spread of COVID-19. This caused a furor and the ban was lifted. The Governor tried something similar with his order to close all bars and restaurants. He later agreed to let businesses sell booze as takeout along with the tacos and sushi.

We don't have marijuana dispensaries in Wyoming. We do have lots of liquor stores. Our Governor has spared closing establishments with full retail liquor licenses. A good thing as it's inconceivable to have everyone hunker down for weeks or maybe months without the proper beverages.

For accurate updates on Coronavirus in Wyoming, go to the page for the Wyoming Department of Health's Infectious Disease Epidemiology Unit. As of 11 a.m. Sunday morning, Wyoming has 86 reported cases. Fremont County leads the pack at 23 with Laramie at 19 and Teton with 14. The Wyoming Public Health Laboratory has tested 1,203, commercial labs have tested 436 (they are bound to only report positive cases), and the CDC lab has tested 1.

Notice how these last two links take you to state government offices. Some sites may not be maintained by state employees but their info comes from people who regularly get kicked around by GOPers in our state legislature. City and county employees pick up our trash and maintain infrastructure. Federal employees will be working overtime to make sure millions get the checks stipulated in the recently-passed stimulus bill. They also maintain Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid, so crucial in this time of plague.

Next time you survive a heart attack, try to fine-tune the description

What action verb best describes a heart attack?

Most times, the past tense of have serves the purpose. Dad had a heart attack. That's so bland. You can "have" a heart attack, just as you can have a cup of coffee or a bad day. But it doesn't really get to the heart of the matter.  Something happens when you have a heart attack, something profound. The muscle that keeps you human stops working. It is an experience of a lifetime and, often, the last experience, your deathtime. It deserves a better description.

The heart attack should be the subject of the sentence. A heart attack killed father. A heart attack claimed his life. You can add an adverb: A heart attack almost killed father. Most of us survivors are fond of adverbs such as almost or nearly, Our lives depended on those adverbs. You could also stay with the action verbs and say something like this: Dad beat the reaper. Or, if you prefer, "Don't Fear the Reaper" with jangly guitars and cowbell, always more cowbell.

Heart attacks deserve better treatment, language-wise. They define what comes after, whether that be finality or life's new chapter. I was lucky and got the latter. I paid a price for neglecting the telltale signs. I wear an ICD in my chest wall that sends signals to a hospital monitoring station. I remain confident that Russian hackers will never find the frequency. But please alert me if I ever start saying nice things about Donald Trump.

My widowmaker heart attack on Jan. 2, 2013, nearly killed me. I lived. During my year of recovery, I went through rehab and ate right and exercised and continued not smoking (I quit in 1985). Some things I did not do. I did not read and entire novel. I wrote very little, although I blogged a bit about the widowmaker (links here and here). The experience took a piece of my heart, my soul. I never thought I would write fiction again. I told my wife Chris that I would never write another book, not even in retirement. She was having none of that. I started a novel the day after I retired in January 2016. I'm 30,000-some words into it. Hard work, this novel-writing biz. Better suited for a young man. Now I have experience but not the stamina. Life plays mean tricks. It entertains us with surprises.

How did the term "heart attack" get started? The heart does not attack. It protests. Dad ate too many Big Macs and his heart is mad as hell and is not going to take it anymore. Bam -- your heart seizes up like an engine low on life-giving 10W-40. My original diagnosis was Acute Myocardial Infarction accompanied by Congestive Heart Failure. I could also call it a Coronary Thrombosis. These terms aren't nearly as colorful as Heart Attack. That's what I will continue to say. And will continue to find better ways to describe that thing that disrupted but didn't end my life.

Here are some tips to avoid those typo gremlins

Nobody in the Trump administration asked me for help, but I am offering it anyway.

First of all, a bit of history about typographical errors. They have been with us since the advent of the printing press. And spelling errors, well, they have been with us since humankind began sketching out a language on mud tablets or papyrus or cave walls, whatever was handy.

Humans are fallible. When  you combine that with high visibility, it's an invitation for trouble. I know this from almost 40 years as a writer and editor.

#45's first poster featured either a spelling error or a typo. SCSOE Betsy DeVos's office misspelled African-American activist's W.E.B. Dubois's name on a press release for Black History Month and compounded the problem by apologizing with the wrong form of apology.

We know that these people have the advantage of higher education. In other words, they're not uneducated. Gross negligence is another problem. Impulsivity, maybe, as we know that POTUS is impulsive on Twitter at 5 a.m.

I offer some tips on avoiding these little gremlins in your written documents, whether they appear only on social media or on thousands of posters, one of which will end up in the National Archives. The term "gremlins" is a good description for these little devils. It comes from British pilots in the 1920s, who needed something (rather than somone) to blame for the failings of their rickety aircraft. It really caught on during WWII, when pilots in the Battle of Britain referred to gremlins as the thing that gummed up the throttle, caused fuel leaks and generally ran amok over the whole works. Gremlins persist, which may be the cause of constant dysfunction at the Trump White House.

 One more thing. Do not treat Spell Check as the last word on your document. Apology, apologies and apologize(s) are all correct. Too and to are both words. Their use depends on context. Can you say context?

Some recent examples:

1. Michael Flynn, former National Security Advisor, wasn't too careful when he talked to two (or maybe two-and-twenty) Russian sources about U.S. national secrets.

You can see how to, too and two are used. Two-and-twenty is antiquated, best relegated to nursery rhyme and blogs. Besides, it could have been two million for all we will ever know.

2. Betsy DeVos offered no apology for giving money to all of the Republicans who voted for her nomination as Secretary of Education. She does apologize that it wasn't more, but that will be taken care of shortly.

Apology is a noun and is used here correctly. Apologize is a verb and it is also used correctly here. One of these days, all of these hacks will apologize to the American people but we won't hold our breath.

3. White House spokesman Stephen Miller msaid out loud that we shouldn't dare question POTUS's decision, whether it by on national security or Ivanka's clothing line. We can only conclude that he speaks with great precision, but obviously is batshit crazy.

That's all for today, language nerds. Your humble narrator signs off until I am needed again, which will be soon.

Anatomy lesson needed

Not in the arm?

Sometimes gubment good, sometimes gubment bad

Denver Post reporter Mark Jaffe has been hanging out at the Western Governors' Association annual meeting in Park City, Utah. Yesterday he and the govs heard Republican pollster Frank Luntz talk about word choice. I'm not sure why Wyoming's Dave Freudenthal and Montana's Brian Schweitzer and Colorado's Bill Ritter had to listen to advice from the likes of Luntz. I guess someone had to be guest speaker. Maybe there's a Utah ordinance prohibiting Democrats at the podium.

Anyway, Jaffe covered Luntz's speech concerning he research he's conducted on Western voters. It seems that 44 percent of Westerners aren't happy with the direction America is headed. In other words, they don't like the gubment. Gubment bad. Until it's time to train and equip its armed forces to fight overseas. Then gubment good. Gubment bad because it makes us pay taxes. When those taxes are used to pave roads or prop up rural airline service or subsidize crops or build dams or fight wildfires -- gubment good then. Gubment bad when it doesn't allow us to shoot our automatic weapons any damn place we please. Gubment good when it allows us to wear firearms and look macho in national parks.

Damn that gubment.

Frank Luntz told the governors to watch what they say.

Luntz warned the governors to be careful about the language they use, saying that instead of talking about "infrastructure," which people equate with bureaucracy, they should talk about safer roads.

Touchstone words should be "safe," "clean" and "healthy," Luntz said.

These words can be used in almost any sentence, particularly those with a Western theme. Here are some examples:

"With Obama as president, I don't feel safe. I need to buy more guns and ammo."

"A clean rifle is a happy rifle."

"If you want to stay healthy, you better be out of town before sundown."

That last one is said to anyone from the gubment who overstays his or her welcome.

"Get out of Dodge, you lily-livered bureaucrat. And please stay healthy by driving on our safe and clean roads."

It's all in the words.

House Republicans: Don't even think about global warming!

Over the last couple days, several prog-bloggers have pointed out the global-warming-denying parts of the House Republicans' energy proposal, the so-called "American Energy Act." Kossack Meteor Blades on Daily Kos summed it up in his June 11 post, "Ten pounds of stupid in a five-pound bag." He posts the odd wording that is embedded deeply into the massive bill. Read it at http://www.dailykos.com/storyonly/2009/6/11/741236/-Ten-Pounds-of-Stupid-in-a-Five-Pound-Bag.

Play the rhyme game with Mike Huckabee

Mike Huckabee, one-time Republican presidential candidate and old-time fundie, wrote a poem about Nancy Pelosi. Huck is so proud of it he posted it on his web site.

It's not bad, as poems go. But the rhymes are a bit predictible. Some writer friends and I like to play a game where we guess the rhymes in mediocre poems. You have to select mediocre poems because they're easier to deconstruct. It's a bit like Mad Libs without the clues. I suppose this could be a drinking game too. Guess wrong and you have to take a drink. Or maybe guess right and take a drink. You decide.

So give these rhymes a try. Some are easy -- and there are a few surprises. If you conjure up some celever rhymes that transform the poem, cut and paste it and put it in the comment section below.

Here goes ---

Here's a story about a lady named Nancy
A ruthless politician, but dressed very _____
Very ambitious, she got herself elected Speaker
But as for keeping secrets, she proved quite a "_______."

She flies on government planes coast to coast
And doesn't mind that our economy is _____
She makes the Air Force squire her in their military jets
There's room for her family, her staff, and even her ____.

Until now, she annoyed us, but her gaffes were mostly funny;
Even though it was painful to watch her waste our tax ______.
But now her wacky comments are no laughing matter;
She's either unwilling to tell the truth, or she's mad as a ______!

She sat in briefings and knew about enhanced interrogation;
But claims she wasn't there, and can't give an ___________.
She disparages the CIA and says they are a bunch of liars;
Even the press aren't buying it and they're stoking their _____.

I think Speaker Pelosi has done too much speaking;
And instead of her trashing our intelligence officials, it's her nose that needs ________.

If forced to believe whether the CIA and her colleagues in Congress are lying;
Or it's Speaker Pelosi whose credibility and career is _____.
I believe in the integrity of the men and women who sacrifice to keep us safe;
Not the woman who has been caught flat-footed, lying to our ____.

I say it here and I say it rather clear--
It's time for Nancy Pelosi to resign and get out of ____.

Read a banned book today!

The American Library Association conducts "Banned Books Week" this time each year. The date for 2008 are Sept. 27-Oct. 4. Please endeavor to read a banned book today.

The ALA's list of the “10 Most Challenged Books of 2007” reflects a range of themes, and consists of the following titles:
1) “And Tango Makes Three,” by Justin Richardson and Peter Parnell; Reasons: Anti-Ethnic, Sexism, Homosexuality, Anti-Family, Religious Viewpoint, Unsuited to Age Group
2) The Chocolate War,” by Robert Cormier; Reasons: Sexually Explicit, Offensive Language, Violence
3) “Olive’s Ocean,” by Kevin Henkes; Reasons: Sexually Explicit and Offensive Language
4) “The Golden Compass,” by Philip Pullman; Reasons: Religious Viewpoint
5) “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” by Mark Twain; Reasons: Racism
6) “The Color Purple,” by Alice Walker; Reasons: Homosexuality, Sexually Explicit, Offensive Language
7) "TTYL,” by Lauren Myracle; Reasons: Sexually Explicit, Offensive Language, Unsuited to Age Group
8) "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,” by Maya Angelou; Reasons: Sexually Explicit
9) “It’s Perfectly Normal,” by Robie Harris; Reasons: Sex Education, Sexually Explicit
10) "The Perks of Being A Wallflower,” by Stephen Chbosky; Reasons: Homosexuality, Sexually Explicit, Offensive Language, Unsuited to Age Group.

As far as I can tell, there are no Wyoming writers on this list, although a book by Cheyenne mystery writer C.J. Box is being challenged at one of the state's public libraries. There is one Colorado writer on the list: Lauren Myracle of Fort Collins, Colo. Terrific writer of books for tweens and teens. My daughter read "TTYL" when she was 12 and reports no permanent damage from the experience.

A fine mishegoss you got us into

In Wednesday’s New York Times, Maureen Dowd writes about a recent speech at the American Enterprise Institute by Iraq War architect Douglas Feith. He was part of Donald Rumsfeld’s stable of neo-cons who did such a great job in Iraq. Dowd says this about Feith and his chickenhawk pals:

"He was simply trying to put an egghead gloss on his Humpty Dumpty mishegoss."

Mishegoss? That’s a new word for me. Here are its meanings:

"Noun 1. mishegoss -- (Yiddish) craziness; senseless behavior or activity meshugaas, mishegaasfoolery, tomfoolery, lunacy, craziness, folly, indulgence -- foolish or senseless behavior."

That pretty well sums up our Iraq misadventure.