Metaphors of the Month! Nautical Terms

Case of collectible cards with nautical metaphorsStrolling through the Second Floor of Boatwright Library the other day, I spotted some works on display from our Rare-Books collection. Since I have an unfathomable interest in nautical words, I turned a weather eye toward that case of treasures.

It must the the lore of sea faring that hooks me. I’m decidedly not a “water person,” my biggest adventures in a boat involving paddling a 12′ kayak in the salt marshes of Virginia’s Eastern Shore. When I see the line of breakers meaning the bay or ocean, I pivot back and head for home. So I’m an armchair swab, I suppose. Since “swab,” being the verb for mopping up a deck, can also mean “sailor,” we have our first October metaphor.

The image snapped by me comes from Jessica Spring’s book Fathoming, printed in a special 2015 edition with a set of tobacco cards (itself an old-timey collectible). The cards pictured feature three metaphors clearly from sailing or ships: “three sheets to the wind,” “loose cannon,” and “in the same boat.” I will leave it up to the reader to recall times they or someone they know embodied any of those phrases.

Yet “Rummage Sale” proved new to me.  The description reads “from the French arrumage, to load a cargo ship. Damaged cargo was sold as arrumage, or rummage.” We don’t say “rummage sale” too often these days, with land lubbers’ “flea markets,” or in the UK, motorists’ “boot sales” taking their place.

Other nautical metaphors can be found all around us. Think of how frequently “anchor” works as an active verb or strategically employed noun.

Some have become bit dated, like “steamer trunk”: I suspect that few of us travel with them, today. Half a century ago, however, college students often toted one to the dorm. There it then served as a bench (if sturdy enough), a table, or an extra closet to hold extra linens, maybe a secret bottle to let said student and friends get three sheets to the wind.

When bad weather looms, I say “batten down the hatches,” though I did not know what a “batten” was until I restored some 150 year-old board-and-batten doors from a farmhouse. Battens are the nailed-down cross boards that hold the door together. If someone says “pipe down,” they are metaphorically sounding a bosun’s whistle, while you probably learned the ropes without ever climbing a ship’s rigging. And I do tell employees that for some events, we need all hands on deck.

You can amuse yourself for a long time looking over the nautical terms that NOAA describes in a blog post. You may even find some of these terms slipping into harbor in academic prose. Meanwhile, don’t fall into the doldrums before the next post. Let NOAA’s post and Captain Google tide you over.  I’ll weigh anchor now, so until next time, fair winds and smooth sailing.

Send in useful words or metaphors, by e-mailing me (jessid -at- richmond -dot- edu) or leaving a comment below.

See all of our Metaphors of the Month here and Words of the Week here.

 

Word of the Week! Ennui

Painting called Ennui by Robert SeymourSome time back, I picked up a copy of Thomas Jefferson: Travels, Anthony Brandt’s edited collection of Jefferson’s correspondence from 1784-1789, his years working in Paris. I find the “American Sphinx,” to use Joseph Ellis’ term, endlessly fascinating in all his complexities, obscurities, and patent hypocrisy. In some ways, his is the story of the state of Virginia, even the entire South. Partly my interest stems from Deism, a spiritual path I share with the Founding Father, partly the long shadow cast by my alma mater, The University of Virginia.

Jefferson, with his many flaws, lacked one: idleness. That brings us to our word, one he saw as the emotional outcome of doing nothing. Here, in a letter to Martha Jefferson from 1787, “guard you at all times against ennui, the most dangerous poison of life. A mind always  employed is alway happy. . . .it is our own fault if we ever know what ennui is. . .” In an earlier letter from the same month, he finds the cause of such poison to be “want of industry which I had begun to fear would be the rock on which you would split.”

Ennui, as befits Jefferson’s experience, come to us from French. In its modern sense, it only dates to 1758, during Jefferson’s own lifetime. Thus, we have a ‘Modern Problem”!  On the other hand, The OED dates an older sense to the 13th century, meaning “weariness.” Often the word “annoy” got employed in the same sense.

The modern loan word implies an annoyance or torpor of the soul, a lassitude. it’s that waiting-for-Godot state of mind. I’ve covered the words malaise and doldrum here before. They both can be used as near synonyms for our week’s word.

I fear we turn to dopamine-dispensers called smart phones and social media for quick bandages to slap over ennui, when instead we might find uses for our time that leave us with something tangible. If you experience ennui, get some exercise. Do some useful work. Improve your mind (and yes, you can find such content via a phone). As Jefferson advises Martha, “it is wonderful how much can be done, if we are always doing.”

Spend your time well! Send us a word or metaphor and I will feature it here. Let me know by e-mail (jessid -at- richmond -dot- edu) or by leaving a comment below. Also let us know if you would like to write a guest column.

See all of our Metaphors of the Month here and Words of the Week here.

Image Source: Ennui by Robert Seymour, courtesy of Wikipedia Commons.

Word of the Week! Shenanigans

Banner for the Patrick O'Shenanigan SocietyThanks to Kim Chiarchiaro, of the Modlin Center For the Arts, who nominated this wonderful word.  We see the word in names of bars, unusually, and not the sort where I want to order a Martini (somewhat dry, Hendricks Gin, dash of bitters, clean not dirty, olive not lemon, shaken and VERY cold, thank you). Try that on a server or bartender in a bar named Shenanigans. You might get punched out.

Yet beyond that dark vision, the word has a Gaelic sound. I asked the robotic brain at the OED, and found “unknown origin.” Now we have a mystery. The definitions are also delightful, including “Trickery, skulduggery, machination, intrigue; teasing, ‘kidding’, nonsense; (usually plural) a plot, a trick, a prank, an exhibition of high spirits, a carry-on.” The OED records first usage as 1855.

The word might be a bit informal for student work, but I’m thinking that it could be of use to scholars describing several rascals, past or present, who influenced public events. Have shenanigans increased in the past century? I am not certain, but the usage of the term has skyrocketed, from 0 instances in 1870 to just under .05 instances per million words in 1930 to .25 per million in 2010.

Shenanigans may also be on the rise.

This blog will  continue all year, so send words and metaphors of interest by e-mail (jessid -at- richmond -dot- edu) or by leaving a comment below. Also let us know if you would like to write a guest column.

See all of our Metaphors of the Month here and Words of the Week here.

Image courtesy of Wikipedia, from the University of Tulsa’s alumni who placed a memorial stone to celebrate “wonderful memories of their college days, including their participation in many shenanigans.”

 

Word of the Week! Patois

Flag of JamaicaI have quite a pile of ideas from readers currently. Thank you! We will begin to work through the backlog soon, but first, student Leo Barnes has a really strong entry on a loan-word from French that I often hear in academic settings.

In terms of definition, we have “regional dialect” from The OED entry. Now I’ll turn things over to Leo:

The term ‘patois’ refers to the language of the common people of a region. A patois can vary greatly from the standardized language and is usually only spoken within communities and passed down orally. It differs from pidgin which is a simplified version of a language spoken between people without a common vernacular.

In French, ‘patois’ means dialect though in Old French, it means clumsy or uncultivated speech. Thus, the use of the word can have a condescending overtone. Writing on the fickleness of dialectical hierarchy, linguist Jean Jaurès notes, “The language of a vanquished people is called patois.” In other words, it isn’t linguistic merit but pure might that decides who’s dialect is cultivated and who’s is crass.

Having seen patois before in Charles Elster’s weighty tome, Word Workout, I was already aware of its first meaning. This past week, though, while working at Long Wind Organic Tomato Farm in Thetford, Vermont, I learned its second.

Patois (also called Patwa) is the native language of almost three million Jamaicans including five who worked alongside me at Long Wind Farm. Patois is a Creole language derived from the English colonists who ruled Jamaica, African word borrowings, and French, Spanish, and Portuguese influences.

No doubt aided by its condescending namesake, The New York Times reports that Patois is “stigmatized with second-class status and often mischaracterized as a poorly structured form of English.” One balmy summer evening, while enjoying a beer and jerk chicken, I had the chance to learn some. Here are highlights:

Patois: Wah Gwan
Meaning: Hello

Patois: De olda de moon, de brighter it shines
Meaning: The older the person, the wiser, more beautiful, and vibrant they are

Patois: Ya so bad luck even an empty gun would still shoot ya
Meaning: You’re so unlucky even a gun without bullets would harm you.

Jerk Chicken on GrillWhile talks are afoot on changing Jamaica’s official language to Patois, for the foreseeable future, it will remain English. Unfortunately, like many small languages, Patois isn’t available on mainstream language learning platforms. For those interested, here’s a good resource to start: Jamaican Patois.

This blog will  continue all year, so send words and metaphors of interest by e-mail (jessid -at- richmond -dot- edu) or by leaving a comment below. Also let us know if you would like to write a guest column.

See all of our Metaphors of the Month here and Words of the Week here.

Image Source: Jamaican Flag & Jerk Chicken courtesy of Leo Barnes. I’m hungry now!