etymology – Richmond Writing

Word of the Week! Googly-Eyed

Once you start looking for them, you cannot unsee them. It began on the Amtrak on my way to Baltimore to attend the CCCC 2025 convention. In the Quiet Car there appeared a poster with a young woman looking at the Amtrak schedule on her smart phone.

Some wag had stuck little plastic googly-eyes on the poster. I laughed out loud. Nothing academic here, but the term began to interest me. Where did it come from?

In Baltimore, on a stroll toward Fell’s Point, I had two more googly-eye spottings. One appeared on the cover of a book; the other on a harbor trash-collector boat. The signboard identifying parts of the boat noted that the goggly-eyes make the boat look friendly.

I’d assumed, wrongly as usual, that our term was a corruption (or improvement, your choice) of the phrase goggle-eyed. In my cruel high school, I learned how that meant anyone with thick glasses or bulging eyes.

The OED set me to rights on this matter, noting that we have “Perhaps a variant or alteration of another lexical item.” That “perhaps” provides a coy way of saying “we really do not know.”

My money, as well as Wikipedia’s, is on Barney Google, a nearly forgotten cartoon character. He is no relation that I know of to the software giant and dates from the early 20th Century.

Barney did indeed have bulging eyes. Now I need to go to a craft store and find some stick-on googly eyes for…never you mind. I’m not the only one thinking of this idea.

On a different train coming back from Baltimore, there they were again. Someone is up to something.

Thank goodness.

If you have any clever ideas about our term’s origin, or, better still, a term or metaphor of some consequence that you’d like covered here, send them to jessid-at-richmond-edu or leave a comment below.

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

Images: Barney from Wikipedia; other googly eyes by me.

Word of the Week! Rubric

Thanks to Lee Parker in Information Services for this popular but seemingly poorly understood term. Lee notes that “Based on my usage and that of H.G. Andrade I expect ‘a scoring tool’ among the definitions. Why isn’t it?” Let’s find out!

The origin goes back to the Middle Ages; The OED entry states that directions in liturgical books, written in red, would give directions to those conducting religious services. Later definitions get us closer to Lee’s idea. By the 18th Century, a rubric could mean a custom, a set of rules, a “general prescription.” Later still, we have starting in 1959 “An explanatory or prescriptive note introducing an examination paper.” The list of definitions goes on and on, including makeup to make one’s complexion rosy and a calendar of saints.

The origin? In Classical Latin, rubrīca for red ochre. Despite that ancient lineage, usage of our word has done nothing but increase since a low point in 1930.

Merriam Webster Online provides a familiar definition that I did not see at The OED (horrors!) and one that gets close to my own sense of “a guide listing specific criteria for grading or scoring academic papers, projects, or tests.”

I admit to playing fast and loose with our word, often using it when I mean a series of steps writers need to take in order to complete an assignment, before I grade it.

So Lee, you are correct: rubrics, in popular parlance today, mean a scoring tool, though I like the idea of red-letter manuscripts, ochre for makeup, and calendars of saints.

Send me words and metaphors to jessid-at-richmond-edu or by leaving a comment below.

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

Creative-Commons image liturgical text with rubrics, courtesy of The Saint Lawrence Press.

Metaphor of the Month! Rugged Individualism

Let’s begin with a lesson I teach students: check your sources.

Wikipedia provides a dubious first coinage for this month’s metaphor, citing President Herbert Hoover. Yet the OED goes earlier, to 1897 and this use by J.G. Rogers, “The stern and rugged individualism which finds no charm in the fellowship of kindred souls.” That said, Hoover may have popularized this term in the American mind.

Flawed origin-story and all, you can read about the history of our metaphor at Wikipedia’s page. Though the concept may inspire a great deal of libertarian philosophy, usage peaked in 1950 and has slowly fallen off since, as shown on the OED’s frequency chart.

Born of our nation’s frontier roots, the metaphor implies that the most resourceful people always provide for themselves. On a frontier, they often had to endure hardships, though the history we receive oversimplifies trading posts and other early means for European settlers to survive in a harsh landscape. Even Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone, our quintessential rugged individuals, did not make their own rifles and gunpowder, no matter how many alligators and bears they wrestled or rivers they jumped across in one bound. See the decent, if uneven, film The Alamo for a re-assessment of Crockett’s life. The famous frontiersman comes across as a charismatic man trapped by his own self-made mythology.

While the term may have declined, its principles continue to inform contemporary political debates. We hear related terms such as “bootstrapping,” to pull oneself up from poverty to prosperity, despite obstacles.

It escapes me how a frontier concept, at the core of so much political discourse, works in an interconnected, urbanized nation. I suppose some of the origin of our metaphor comes from Emerson’s influential essay “Self Reliance,” which you can read here. When read carefully, Emerson does not imply that we are islands, nor his he talking about bear-hunting. Instead, he focuses on our inner lives, where solitude and self-knowledge make a person stronger but where being overly social distracts one from that goal. Think of Thoreau at Walden (yes, his mom baked pies for him).

I agree, yet nowhere in Emerson do I detect a survival-of-the-fittest mentality that underlies so much of the Rugged Individualist concept.

I farm and DIY a lot of things that urban and suburban folks cannot, yet I laugh at both this concept as well as the findings of 2016 Pew Research poll reported in the Wikipedia entry, that “57% of Americans did not believe that success in life was determined by forces outside of their control.”

One wonders how many of them have been subjected to natural disasters, layoffs not their doing, random accidents, or medical emergencies. So much lies beyond our control; As Emperor Marcus Aurelius contends in his Meditations many times, we can only control ourselves. See my entry on Stoic. May you be stoic in the face of things you cannot change.

Send bears to wrestle, as well as words and metaphors to jessid-at-richmond-edu or by leaving a comment below.

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

Word of the Week! Despondent

It’s okay in these troubled times to feel despondent, as long as. you understand what the word means. I used it the other day in a light-hearted way, when touring Colonial Williamsburg. At the Governor’s Palace, two cooks were preparing a Colonial-era meal. The food smelled wonderful, and I said I’d like some. “Sorry, Sir,” came the reply. “It’s for the Governor’s table.”

I told the woman that I, a mere commoner, felt despondent.

“Nice choice of word!” she answered, without feeding me. I informed her that at least we had filled my belly with a word for this week.

For once, The OED entry on our word proves very brief, giving good definitions related to “loss of heart or resolution,” or simply being depressed. I find it depressing that the entry provides no examples of usage newer than 1849. How could such a useful word fall out of favor? Do we simply say “depressed” nowadays?

The word is of Latin origin, from dēspondēntem, with frequency of use falling markedly until about 1980, when despondent enjoyed (if that’s the term for it) an uptick in use. The Gay 1890s proved a paradoxically high-water mark, and now we are back about to 1960 in use of our word.

We need synonyms for unpleasant things. Saying “I’m down” or “I’m bummed out” do not work in formal prose. So cheer up! Even if I didn’t make you feel better, at least I’ve given you an new word for feeling bad.

Send me words and metaphors, uplifting or depressing, at jessid-at-richmond-edu or by leaving a comment below.

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

Image: Man probably looking at S&P 500 since January. Creative-Commons image from freestockphotos.biz

Word of the Week! Screed

Thanks to reader Marissa Sapega, who teaching Business Communications at the university, for this word. Looking back at older entries, I have used our word exactly once. I’m certain, however, that my occasional op-eds elsewhere have included a screed or two.

As defined by my printed copy of The Random House Dictionary, a screed means a diatribe, usually not a short one. We associate these features with screeds: ignoring reactions, not listening to an audience’s needs, writing from rage or some other passion. Screeds do not mean reasoned discourse, but a long harangue. Screeds rant in writing, usually. I’ve heard the term “verbal harangue” a few times, so that word needs unpacking in a future post as the word “harangue” also implies something written.

In any case, I just provided with you with a few useful synonyms for screed.

An older use could mean an informal letter, but we do not hear that much any longer. The only other use for the word I know is a straightedge for smoothing the top of concrete or cement. I have one of those screeds in our barn.

This week’s word has interesting roots: Etymology Online cites the Middle English shrede, with became our modern “shred,” meaning a small piece of something larger. As a verb, shred relates nicely to today’s screed: screeds can shred the listener’s eyes and ears.

We live in a time of screeds. I won’t lie to you, or give you a screed, but language in politics, in particular, scares the hell out of me because it portends, even promises, violence. No wonder my younger students are always anxious.

How we get back from rage to reasoned discourse cannot be solved by this blog. Each of us, however, can do our parts to end what I see as madness, the sort that rips a civilization to pieces: shredded, or screeded, to death.

An ironic coda: Hipsters in New York City are now buying shredded clothes at very high prices, and I do not mean the silly pre-shredded jeans I see undergrads wear. These clothes have screeds acquired by hard use of the sort I subject my farm-clothing to. You can read more about the weird fad at this NYT story.

Sign of the times? I plan to find one of the shops when the fad hits Richmond, then sell them my worst cast-offs.

Send me words and metaphors at jessid-at-richmond-edu or by leaving a comment below.

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

Image: Creative-Commons image, modified, from publicdomainpictures.net

Metaphor of the Month! Mother Nature

You may be old enough to recall a Chiffon Margarine advertising campaign featuring a woman dressed like an Earth-deity and the motto “It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature.”

I agree, though margarine never fooled me. I love cooking so bring on the butter, lard (for pie crusts), avocado oil, and olive oil. Otherwise, get out of my kitchen.

So where did the phrase Mother Nature come from? When was it first coined? The OED is wonky today, giving lots of page errors, but I detect two entries, with one giving a first recorded use of 1390. That means three years before the birth of Gutenberg, so it merits some attention. The problem with this usage, from Chaucer’s Physician’s Tale, comes from the lack of “Mother.” The teller does relate nature to a female deity, but that association goes back to a time not simply before printing but before writing itself.

The same entry gives a date of 1500 for “Dame Nature,” so we clearly see a pattern emerging. Not until 1962 does the OED replace “Dame,” perhaps from midcentury US usage as a belittling term for women, with “Mother.”

The second entry in the OED helps a great deal with our etymology, with instances of “mother nature,” without capital letters, reaching back to 1525.

As for Chiffon? The current owner of the brand discontinued US and Canadian distribution back in 2002, as Wikipedia informs me. Mother Nature had the last laugh. While I don’t think we have an actual angry goddess lashing out at puny homo sapiens who do so much harm to our ecosystems, pause a moment to pay some respect. With a real winter this year (which I love) it could seem that Mama ain’t happy with us. Or is it Papa? Old Man Winter is another metaphor worth our while (and for next year).

Meanwhile sit back, slow down, stay home if you can, enjoy the quiet ferocity of a snow-storm. It’s not nice to fool around with Old Man Winter, either.

If you think of any words or metaphors to share with the community in 2025, send them to me at jessid -at- richmond -dot- edu or by leaving a comment below.

That call for content includes updates and corrections. Regular reader Michael Stern gives us some clarity on our recent word of the week, inure:

“I have been a practicing attorney for more than fifty years and I have never seen the word inure spelled ‘enure.’ If I ever did, I probably would have thought it to be a spelling error.”

Excellent feedback. I always welcome it!

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

Word of the Week! Inure

This week’s word crops up enough in academic prose that we need something on it. I do not frequently use our word, but I like it for one specific reason.

Even a casual check at free dictionary sites reveals that “inure” can carry two very different meanings: to take effect (often in business or legal usage); to become accustomed to something, usually something unpleasant.

I’m inured to the difficult process of walking on ice, for instance (hint: cleats for those winter boots). It’s not a pleasant task. That said, I love cold weather, so there’s no need for me to be inured to that. For others, bundle up and stop complaining.

As for using the word correctly, it’s a transitive verb so it needs an object. Note how the “to” can move about. I love this 1837 example from the OED, using a spelling I’ll discuss in a moment: “To enure youths to habits of industry.” We did, then, have Slackers in the early 19th Century. Call Mister Bumble and make the kid Oliver do something useful!

The OED notes a 15th-Century date of first recorded use and an etymology native to English but “by derivation.” Have a look here for more on that particular puzzle. There’s another: The OED favors the spelling “enure,” whereas other sources favor “inure.” I tend to see the second spelling more often. Pick your poison but be consistent, please. At a site called Daily Writing Tips, the author notes that “enure” tends to enjoy pride of place for legal writing. I don’t know but any attorneys or Professors of Law, please let me know.

Inure yourselves to this blog continuing all year, when I have a word you don’t like. So why not instead send me words and metaphors by leaving a comment below or by email at jessid-at-richmond-dot-edu ?

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

Image Source: Scott Perry at Flickr

Word of the Week! FOMO

I know, it’s an acronym. Yet a timely one. Do you have “fear of missing out?”

Not me. FOMO is not part of my curmudgeonly life: I almost always see hit movies and TV series years later, don’t watch TV except one hour a week max. I leave my phone silenced, without even a buzz. I don’t give out my phone number, even to my employer. If I don’t know a number in “recents” I block it. I call it my “Love of Missing Out.” LOMO!

So where did FOMO come from? Faith Hill’s article in The Atlantic Monthly (YES, monthly again) gives us her ideas on genesis of our term, “author and speaker Patrick McGinnis coined the term.” I think she needs to say more, as McGinnis explored the idea in the early 2000s and gave it a name, but naming is not always claiming.

The Wikipedia entry and the site cited by Hill note that the “phenomenon was first identified in 1996 by marketing strategist Dr. Dan Herman, who conducted research and published an article in The Journal of Brand Management.” The Wikipedia page compares FOMO to the older “keeping up with the Joneses,” a Postwar phrase.

Hill ends up praising her FOMO tendencies, while admitting:

This is no way to live, you might be thinking. FOMO tends to be described as a dark impulse, something that keeps you from being present as you worry instead about what better option could be around the corner, or scroll miserably through the online evidence of what fun everyone is having without you.

You follow her breadcrumbs to the source, which notes how the fear can be part of anxiety disorder, the most common invisible disability on our campus.

And my students wonder why I call phones “dopamine dispensers.” Dr. Essid’s prescription is an close as your thumbs: ignore celebrities, Doomscrolling, and what comes out of some politicians’ always-open mouths. Ditch binging on TikTok, box scores, and movie trailers. Take out the earbuds and take a walk outside to see real buds already appearing on certain plants.

Build something instead of consuming things. Try some LOMO. You’d find it called JOMO at a Psychology Today article. Lomo can mean “back” in Spanish, though in my experience it meant a cut of meat. So find LOMO by turning your back on FOMO!

Yes, I’m shouting into a hurricane. But I can help a few of you lose that FOMO, part of my life’s work is done. Of course, here I am, seeking eyeballs on a blog and the dopamine hit I get when you tell me that you read it.

Just don’t call me to say so. Harumph. Time to step outside.

If you think of any words or metaphors to share with the community in 2025, send them to me by postcard, telegram, smoke-signal, pony express, signal rocket, at jessid -at- richmond -dot- edu or by leaving a comment below.

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

WONDERFUL image by Kevin Hodgson at Flickr.

Word of the Week! Albeit

What a pleasant surprise to learn, from The OED’s frequency chart, that one of my favorite words for formal writing has enjoyed increased usage since 1950. The term sounds impressive. Could the uptick come from legal usage? In a Stackexchange discussion of the word, one writer notes that “many people consider it archaic.”

Not me. I like archaic, even while getting generative AI to make an image for me. I also think of John Houseman in The Paper Chase, lecturing formally.

Maybe I show off when I write that the word “possesses a certain gravitas, albeit one that might alienate general readers.” Guilty as charged; an education means a hard-earned journey, and when writing for other specialists, yes, I’ll trot out my Latin and my albeits. The etymology, however, proves as rudimentary as all+be+it.

In my example above, my usage matches the first definition given by The OED, “even though.” The term can mean “in spite of,” as well. You can read other definitions here. I recommend our word for adding some variety to formal written work. One gets tired of “even thoughs,” even though that term proves easy to understand.

I close with a bit of advice for this week. Make your stylistic choices wisely, albeit boldly.

If you think of any words or metaphors to share with the community in 2025, send them to me at jessid -at- richmond -dot- edu or by leaving a comment below.

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

Image source: Google Gemini AI to prompt “Close-up image of an elderly white male law professor lecturing while holding up an index finger” (to avoid other fingers and other meanings)

Metaphor of the Month! Spinster

I had the good fortune to spend a few days in Colonial Williamsburg, where I wandered into the shop for weaving and spinning. The interpreter on duty explained, while carding and spinning wool, how automated Spinning Jennies replaced the cottage-industry spinning wheels, leading to lots of superfluous spinsters.

And thus we continue my post-retirement exploration of words associated with old folks.

Her story got my ears buzzing; I explained about this blog and wondered how the term came to be associated with older, never-married women who also may have never spun yarn. The interpreter didn’t know for certain, but she hazarded a guess that the number of unemployed spinsters in the late 18th century led to the term being used generally for women who were seen as of little use socially. That possibility would follow a long history of legal use. The OED entry notes how in English Common Law “Use of the occupational term to indicate a woman’s marital status appears to have been motivated by the fact that many unmarried women and girls were employed in spinning,”

This makes sense; a spinsters’ hours during six-day working weeks were quite long; we were told that it took 12 women working at wheels to supply a single loom. Would they have time to marry?

In the etymology of out word, one of the longest I’ve encountered so far at the OED, The writers complicate matters. They indicate that “spinster is applied in a number of legal and official documents of the late 16th and 17th centuries to women who are also described as wives and appear to be of high social rank.” Whatever the tangled skein (there’s another metaphor) of history here, when did the shift to an older woman occur?

By the early 18th Century, a word with a somewhat murky legal meaning had taken on a negative connotation, as an unmarried woman “who has remained single beyond the typical age for marriage, often stereotypically characterized as prim and fussy or as lonely, childless, and resentful.”

There the meaning has remained, for 200 years. The word appears rarely today, its frequency of use in steady decline since 1950. The term is considered offensive; rightly so, but the drift of meaning from profession to insult does fascinate.

We may never know why this shift to an insulting meaning occurred. Today, on the other hand, we occasionally hear of press secretaries or PR folks called “spinsters,” who try to put a positive spin upon otherwise bad news.

If you think of any words or metaphors to share with the community in 2025, send them to me at jessid -at- richmond -dot- edu or by leaving a comment below.

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

Image of Spinning Jenny courtesy of Wikipedia