Drawing inferences

Among my treasured possessions is a Donald Duck comic book in Norwegian. In 2010 it was a gift from a delightful exchange student whose host family lives down the street. I still miss her.

The book reminds me that reading the comics is a fun, easy way to learn new words—either in one’s native language or in another.

Many words in comics are sight words—those learned early on. Examples are: a, big, by, can, carry, do, eat, for, go … well, the list goes on. (For more information, google Fry word lists or Dolch word lists.)

As children read comic strips, they use their command of sight words and the clues they gain from the pictures to draw inferences, or logical guesses, about words in the strip they don’t know.

Case in point: lollygagging.

In the strip above Grampa is first shown plopped on the couch, doing nothing. His hands are clasped behind his neck––a classic gesture of relaxation.

Even without understanding the Americanism “lollygag,” most readers can figure out from Grampa’s body language that he’s not doing much. That comes as no surprise for regular readers of the strip; they know that Grampa’s made “kicking back” an art form.

It’s therefore unsurprising that Webster’s defines “lollygag” as “to waste time in trifling or aimless activity; to fool around.”

For an extensive explanation of the word, I recommend a blog entry by “Richard,” a contributor to The Mavens’ Word of the Day on a Random House site. I’m inferring that he’s a credible source because of Random House’s prestige in the publishing world.

Incidentally, he provides a second definition of “lollygag” that reminds me of recent local headlines regarding behavior at school dances. The link is: http://www.randomhouse.com/wotd/index.pperl?date=20001109.

Finally, below is my best attempt at translating today’s Pickles into Norwegian. (I hope Kari would approve.) Bye for now. See you in the funny papers.

Grampa: Hva stirre du for?

Nelson: Du.

              Bestemor sa du kastet bort tid. Jeg var interessert i så synet av det.

              Det hørte ut mer moro enn det ser ut.

Photos special to the Sentinel
 

Right thoughts, right results

“Thinking” in its infinitive form is “to think.” Linguists tell us it’s a strong verb, which means it’s not turned into past tense by adding “ed.” (Think-thought-have thought)

Thinking is the process of forming ideas, which in turn guide many of our actions. Right now I’m thinking of duties that should be accomplished by day’s end. Actually, I’m fretting about them, which is hardly my favorite way to think.

I wish I had more time to reflect on thinking, but I really should ponder other matters. I will, however, take heart from a maxim by James Allen: “Work joyfully and peacefully, knowing that right thoughts and right efforts will inevitably bring about right results.”

The Thinker sculpture at Musée Rodin in Paris
Photo by Satyakamk courtesy of Wikipedia

‘Action is eloquence’

Awww! Just when we think that the lessons Jeremy’s parents and teachers are valiantly teaching aren’t sinking in, he demonstrates the value of their guidance with a heartfelt action and a mere seven words.

His final line today makes me wonder if his high school teachers have required him to read William Shakespeare’s play Coriolanus, because Act III, Scene ii contains the paradoxical line, “Action is eloquence.”

“Eloquence” is the noun form of “eloquent,” which can be broken down into two Latin word parts. “E” means “out,” as in “egress” and “egregious.” Then there’s loqui, meaning “to speak.” It is the precursor of words such as “loquacious,” “locution” and “elocution.” So, the meaning of the Latin word eloqui was “to speak out.”

Eloquent now means to be “fluid, forceful … persuasive [and] vividly expressive,” according to Webster’s. The words in time-honored speeches such as Lincoln’s “Gettysburg Address” and Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” are frequently called eloquent.

TIME OUT: Those of you who just wanted to know the etymology and definition of “eloquent” are welcome to bail out now, because I’m about to ignore a line from Hamlet, another Shakespearean play, which is “Brevity is the soul of wit.” I feel a strong need to wax philosophic on paradox and eloquence today, so flee if you must. I’ll absolutely understand.

For those few stalwart souls still reading, here goes:

As noted in a previous blog entry, paradox is something that seems contradictory, but is also true. For example, my very first friend, who lives in Brush, Colo., will celebrate her 15th birthday at the end of this month, even though she’s a bit older than I, and I’m w-a-y past 15. Yes, you got it; she was born on Feb. 29, 1952.

Now, for eloquence, there’s no better example than the efforts here at The Daily Sentinel.

In a very real sense, we here are all about words. Every day, our reporters are talking to citizens who speak out about issues and events in our community and then incorporating those comments into articles. Our photographers take pictures that are worth a thousand words, and they also work as reporters when they compose the captions that go with their photos.

Our copy editors check the veracity of words and often suggest ways to make reporters’ words more eloquent. With its columns, editorials, political cartoons and letters to the editor, our editorial page contains fine examples of eloquent language.

In late afternoon meetings, some of our newsroom staffers explain what they’re working on and frequently try to persuade others that their particular story deserves front-page treatment. They’d probably scoff at the notion that they speak eloquently, but they do speak persuasively.

Our ad reps are helping businesspeople with words for ads that will convey the quality of their services and/or merchandise. I could go on and on about other TDS staffers who understand the vitality of words in their daily labors, but that must wait for another day.

And yet … in an environment where we grasp the pleasure and power of words, the contradiction is that we are often sparing of them. Why? One reason is that we understand the meaning of deadlines. Everyone has a certain amount of work to do in a certain time. Every day TDS personnel rely on other staffers to complete their jobs on time so that they may accomplish their own jobs under deadline pressure.

So, even though we do schmooze a bit and razz each other if a favorite team’s not doing well, such conversations usually are brief. Everyone has to take action and get his or her job done.

Those who best personify the idea that actions can be vividly forceful and therefore eloquent are our production people and our paper carriers. All the efforts of folks in the newsroom and ad department come to naught if our production staffers don’t vigorously work each night to print the paper and include its ad inserts and if our carriers can’t make their rounds, often in rotten weather, in the wee hours each morning.

To me, they are sterling examples of a quote by a man considered the father of modern American shipbuilding, Henry Kaiser. “If your work speaks for itself,” Kaiser said, “don't interrupt.”

Yes, here at the Sentinel we know the value of words, but often we’re too busy to convey all that we could. Or we are too shy. Or we worry about wasting someone else’s valuable time. Or we’re in such awe over others’ journalistic prowess that we think anything we say could not hold a candle to what they say. Or, all of the above.

Our publisher has recognized this lapse in communication. Yesterday Jay Seaton e-mailed the entire TDS staff to address any fears or reservations people may have about speaking up in meetings. He recommended a Wall Street Journal article that explains why some folks are reluctant to articulate their views. The article is worth reading. Its link is: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052970204136404577207020525853492.html?mod=ITP_personaljournal_0.

“I am sending this to everyone in the building,” Seaton wrote, “because I am absolutely certain that there are some fantastic ideas floating around in the minds of many of you who, for one reason or another, do not feel comfortable expressing them.”

I was happy to get his e-mail. I enjoy a workplace in which open communication is encouraged. Now, if I could manage to arrive earlier, get over my shyness and my fear of wasting others’ time, and banish my inferiority complex when I compare my communication skills to those of many others in this building, I may try to speak out more.

And, if my colleagues ever consider any of my words eloquent, I’d truly be honored.
 

A man of few words

Frank and Ernest today spoof an important First Amendment right by turning “assembly” into “dissembly,” which isn’t really a word.

A dissembler is someone who hides his or her true feelings or motives, often with excessive and/or flowery language. There are admirable dissemblers, such as Emmuska Orczy’s Scarlet Pimpernel, and then there are less-than-admirable dissemblers, such as the orator in the cartoon above.

While my late father would have enjoyed this cartoon, he’d have used a barnyard epithet starting with “bull” to describe the orator. Dad didn’t have much patience with dissemblers, because he was their polar opposite. He listened more than he talked, but when he did speak, his words had weight.

Dad was a respected, successful businessman. His handshake was solid, and when he gave his word, he kept it.

Probably the only time Dad didn’t mind hanging around dissemblers was over a card table. While they were bantering, he’d be counting cards, assessing their styles of play and judging the strength of his own hand against what he deduced was in theirs. His opponents may have talked a good game, but more often than not, the guy raking in the chips was Dad.

Fortunately, Dad took time to teach me a few card games. I’m deeply grateful that he helped me attain some card sense, because in the process he also passed on many valuable life lessons.

Dad taught me how essential it is to play the cards that are dealt, understand that a bad hand can be turned into a good one, wait for just the right time to run the deck and be confident that life deals a new hand each and every day. Oh, and to tolerate “bull--------“ for only so long.

English actor Fred Terry played The Scarlet Pimpernel in 1905.
Photo of postcard courtesy of Wikipedia

Photo special to the Sentinel
 

Geezers and Giza both wonders to behold

Geezers are old, eccentric people, according to Webster’s. We geezers, however, know the word really means mature individuals who refuse to be mundane.

Frank and Ernest are alluding to the Great Pyramid of Giza, which lies not far from Cairo, Egypt. “It is the oldest of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, and the only one to remain largely intact,” according to Wikipedia.

Great Pyramid of Giza
Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World (from left to right, top to bottom): Great Pyramid of Giza, Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, Statue of Zeus at Olympia, Mausoleum of Halicarnassus, Colossus of Rhodes, and the Lighthouse of Alexandria as depicted by 16th-century Dutch artist Marten Heemskerk.

Photo and caption courtesy of Wikipedia