I'm unhinged by the magnitude and efficiency of the 1968 Unabridged, Webster’s New Twentieth Century Dictionary. Did you know that there are twentysix columns of Un-words. One merely
needs to look up what follows un and know that it's not that…
Bam! Words that start with water fill more than two pages. Whoa.
It's too bad the earth is running out of water when there are so many words
associated with it. Will they be extinct?
I remember hearing on NPR
that the word take has more meanings than any other. Unless I look at
every page in Webster’s, I can’t say whether the comparison is true, so, I
looked it up…online. Take indeed tops the list followed by break,
turn and set. For take, the first entry in the ’68 dictionary
is a verb that includes 55 meanings plus another column of terms used, such as,
to take care or to take it lying down. There’s a second take-verb
relating to getting possession with 12 meanings, followed by a noun with six,
relating to the process of taking. The 2015 online list indicates 127 meanings
suggesting that in the ensuing years creativity in word making is down. By the
way, only the game of Bridge used the term "take out" in '68. No
chicken nor synonyms for murder, I guess.
What a turn in vision Noah
Webster took when he set the foundation for this book. It includes 157 pages of
supplements including practical business mathematics and terms, air
distances between cities, the history of the English language, forms of
address, abbreviations, pages of signs and symbols and the
history of Canada. It even spells out the Constitution of the United States
and the Declaration of Independence.
In an attempt to speed the
user's interface, (1968 interface, n, a surface that lies between two parts
of matter or space and forms their common boundary); the book is
constructed with black wells with letters along the edges. I learned from a
brochure I found tucked between pages that these features are “stamped in gold”
and called “thumb indexed.” They claim and I don’t disagree, that the book is
“richly appointed throughout.” The paper is fine, thin and yellowed... both on
purpose and now with its 47 years of age. The book is heavy with so many pages
and so much information to offer. The description on the insert says its “Monumental-
2.304 pages”, and “Massive- weighs 11 pounds, 4 ounces, 11 inches high x
8 ½ inches wide”. It includes “400,000 word definitions, 2,132
illustrations, many in full color bound in handsome sturdy, buckram”. (I
had to look it up. A coarse cotton, hemp, or linen cloth, stiffened with
glue or a gluelike substance.)
The insert includes, in
the purchasers hand writing, a curly fine style that reminds me of my
grandmother’s, that says, “ordered, 10/28/68 4.65/mo. 13.95 Total. Seems
a bargain now for this massive, monumental resource. That was fall of our
senior year. I remember chipping in coins from fifty
or seventy-five cent an hour babysitting jobs to fill up our
dad's cars to go to football games, Blazo’s or Big Boy. The gas at the
Sunoco station cost around twenty-nine cents per gallon. I never would have
purchased something so extravagant. It would take 28 hours of babysitting for
me, and I had more critical purchases like 45s, Villager outfits, Sebago Mocs,
Bonnie Bell and Monet earrings.
Watching TV one night, I
sat Webster’s on my lap, leafed through and noticed an illustration of a zorapteran.
Bored, I pulled out markers and colored it, then found other bugs in nearly
every letter of the alphabet. I colored from back to front until an acarida.
Since '68, publishers replaced engravings, the little pictures with
photographic processes, (I learned from Wikipedia), but, it made me wonder how
editors determined which words to represent. Pictures aid in understanding a
concept. I could never conjure a halberd without the drawing. The little
engravings aren't on every page making the information dense... intimidating…
so much to know. The illustrations are a relief, a resting place for the eyes
and the brain. I wonder whether the priority came from a layout decision or the
information? By the way, the first illustration in the book is of an
aardvark, already a cool word with its double-a beginning, the last a zoospore balancing out coolness with its double-o middle.
Though I access
Thesaurus.com much more than the dictionary, I don’t learn nearly as much using
it. I find my word, you know… the one… right… on the tip… of my tongue. I copy
the word, X the webpage and edit my Word doc. Done. Each time, I am
reminded that at this point in my life, words are precious. They don’t reliably
show up for me. Use of Thesaurus.com is increasing. I get as frustrated with
myself as I did with my mom when words don’t emerge when I need them. Word
finding. It’s part of aging, I’m told. It must be a modern term, because
it’s not in the ’68. It, however, doesn’t make me feel modern.
I so love this dictionary
for helping me mind my Ps and Qs.
Word. (as in, to flatter
in 1968.)
Posts
Last year in preparation for retirement someday, I took a plein air watercolor class. Since then I paint in different urban or native locations and return to one place almost weekly to better understand seasons and try new techniques on what is now familiar. It made sense to me that my new life would include travel with someone or by myself and I'd want to be outside as much as possible, 
This year my travel schedule escalated with new responsibilities for facilitating health care executive roundtable events. In Spring I took a Sketchbook Skool class online which legitimized and empowered my sketching in public. In a quest to fulfill homework responsibilities, I quick sketched the seat across from me on the way out. No one complained. No one told me I couldn't. I sketched another passenger on my way home and on the next flight out too. Voila'! a habit was born. 
Last night as I zipped away my sketchbook in its special Art Supplies pouch in prep for landing on a flight from Phoenix, the attendant stopped and asked if I was an artist. This, I've learned, is a trick question. I don't sell my work, which is 99% of the time the question behind the question. And, yet, yes I sketch and paint and make art. I clarified and said no to her, and clarified again, and said, yes to me. I am an artist in the making.
