There it is. Most of the things I feel most strongly about are specified or alluded to in that paragraph. Here is an instance of one of them. It had never occurred to me that allude was based on the Latin verb ludo = “to play,” but as soon as I wrote it, I was sure it did have that base. It does. I just checked it in my new red dictionary. It said, “See ludicrous.” You have to love that.
I am very much attracted to the origins of the words we use in English. Most of the time looking at the etymology of a word is like walking around behind it so you can see how it is stitched together and how it is propped up so we can see it and use it. I am also attracted to families of words and I am prepared to define “family” very broadly.
It is not very broad to note that the candid- in candid and in candidate is the same in each word, however much that combination inclines us to snicker or to wail. In Latin, candidus means “white, pure, sincere.” It just doesn’t stop, does it? But it also matters to me that the stit- root in the same in constituent and in prostitute. Also in substitution and superstition. It derives from the Latin stare (pronounced "starry" as in (“starry night”), which means “to stand.”
Treating word families the way I do makes it possible to feel an easy familiarity with them, yet also a respect for their proper use. That’s why I like them and like to spend time with them.
This brings us to the second point, which has to do with abusing language. An ab- use (an abuse) is a bad use. The question was best put by Lewis Carroll in this well-known dialog between Humpty Dumpty and Alice.
`When I use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, `it means just what I choose it to mean -- neither more nor less.'I am not entirely unsympathetic to Mr. Dumpty’s position. There is no question that it is sometimes great fun to trade on one’s familiarity with language. I recently identified (in a course syllabus) those people who are made worse off by a public policy as the “maleficiaries” of that policy and it made me happy for the rest of the day. On the other hand, Mr. Dumpty’s antagonistic relationship with language—will I be the master or will it?—isn’t “familiarity. It is only dominance. And that won’t do at all.
`The question is,' said Alice, `whether you can make words mean so many different things.'
`The question is,' said Humpty Dumpty, `which is to be master -- that's all.'
Language is an agreement among users. It’s a constitution of a sort. It tells us what is permitted and what is not. And it allows for frequent amendment; sometimes formally, as in the nearly universal agreement to treat “their” as a singular possessive pronoun. “Every person has a right to their own vocabulary.” More often, the change is informal and the hearer simply spreads the net of possible meanings a little wider.
But I like the constitution metaphor for another reason as well and that is that there are, for all practical purposes, “state constitutions.” The language that is “constitutionally acceptable” varies a good bit from one area or situation to another; from one group to another; and to one role-within-a-group to another. Examples will have to do, I’m afraid. You may say you’uns ("yunz")in Pittsburgh, but you must say y’all in Biloxi. There are situations where “six o’ iron” will get you a six-pack of Iron City beer, but in other situations, perfectly literate people will look at you and say, “Huh?” You can greet a friend, “Sup, man?” if you are the right color and in the right situation. And so on.
It is this function of language to show that we fit in or that we do not that makes it so powerful. My father used to say that a boy who says, “My old man ain’t got no right to bitch like he’s doin’” and one who says, “My father has no right to complain about this matter.” are saying the same thing about the father. They are saying different things about themselves. That’s true in a way and why my father meant was that using speech constitutionally identifies you as a citizen in good standing. The first boy’s remark is “unconstitutional” in several ways. On the other hand, by saying "my old man" and "bitch," he will be saying “I belong” to people who may be very important to him.
So I think of language in a utilitarian way sometimes and as a capacious and accepting family to which I belong at other times. From the utilitarian side, the best question is usually, “What are you trying to do?” The “my old man/my father” example illustrates the several things one might be trying to do. But the warm family metaphor means that you can roll over on your tongue the question of whether the corporations and the regulatory agencies are competing (peto = “to attack”) or just colluding (ludo = “to play.”). And that’s worth doing, too. Especially for a dilettante.
