After twenty-two years, the most famous dictionary publisher, Merriam-Webster, is updating their print version of the “Collegiate Dictionary.” This is exciting news for most writers; some yummy new words for us to devour.
I admit that I have succumbed to the modern age where most of my dictionary work is conducted online or on the dictionary app on my phone. But I miss the days of sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by reference books, dictionaries, and notebooks. In fact, I miss sitting on the floor like that, in general since I’m coming upon my seventieth birthday, if you know what I mean.
Are you aware that every state in the U.S., Washington D.C., and our territories, have a State Library and archive? I used to thrive spending time in the Kentucky State Library researching and combing through documents, all spread out on a big conference table in the middle of the “stacks.” I was preparing preliminary documents for my master’s thesis.
A lexophile in the making, I think I’ve always loved words, especially their origins. Lexophile, for example, where in the world did that word come from? Meaning, lover of words, lexophile comes somewhat obviously from two Greek roots: lexis meaning words or speech, and philos meaning loving.
Circa 1993 or so and given the opportunity to critique my teaching at the end of the semester, one college student said, “she uses too many big words.” Since I love words, what do you think I thought about that criticism? If I recall accurately after these many years, my thought was, “this is college, get a dictionary.”
Where is the curiosity? Where is the desire to know more? Where is the work ethic?
You know, there are people who read the dictionary? Kostas, the title character in a television show I watched, written in Italian about a Greek detective, with English subtitles, reads the dictionary when he comes home to decompress after work. Malcolm X, while in prison, was said to have copied entries from the dictionary to teach himself to read and write.
I beg to differ with the nineteenth century children’s rhyme, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” As it turns out, the relevance of some age-old sayings expires. This may have been the wisdom in 1862, but in 2025 our wisdom has evolved to stipulate that emotional wounds can last longer than physical ones.
Twentieth century American author, Jessamyn West expressed the contemporary wisdom in her twist of the old rhyme. “A broken bone can heal, but the wound a word opens can fester forever.” I’d say “Amen” to that, but that word means “so be it.”
It’s my opinion that we have far too many walking emotional wounds in our midst because of words and their associative actions. Bullies have inflicted their best on too many people.
Some of the words that we use around children are despicable. Doesn’t everybody know that children are sponges? They absorb every word that is uttered in their vicinity. Do some people really intend to damage a person for life by calling a child disparaging names or using an overabundance of four-letter gutter words? That’s bullying, pure and simple.
In teaching young children to communicate, a hallmark of civilization and functional mental health, we ask them to “use your words.” I’m using license to quote Mark Twain in this context, by pointing out that there is a “difference between the almost right word and the right word… ‘tis the difference between the lightning-bug and the lightning.”
Choose the right words! Every time we open our mouths around children, we’re giving them a gift. Is your gift a gag gift? Is it a gift of a lifetime? Is it a gift they must reach for? Or are you handing them an empty box decorated like a gift?
Do you know that print dictionaries are now considered gift books, in part? What a gift it would be. Maybe we could create a new generation of meditative dictionary readers.
People have been known to “finger drop” onto a dictionary page, or Bible page, to see what pops up. They let their minds wander a bit and ponder something of the unknown.
William King, trumpet player for the 1968 American funk and soul group, the Commodores, named the band with a dictionary finger drop. He said in 1978, “We lucked out, we almost became The Commodes.”
Want to have some fun with words? Try a finger drop on a random dictionary page and let your mind wander.