Archive for September, 2009
September 24th, 2009
Word detectives have been on the trail of “cop” for a long time. More than one prime suspect has been encountered along the way.
One of the first was the metal “copper,” which reportedly was what the uniform buttons of British law officers of the time were made of. Or perhaps it was their badges.
Another was “COP,” the acronym, for “constable on patrol” or “constabulary of police” or even “chief of police.”
Both still have their defenders.
Webster’s New World College Dictionary suggests it came from the “north British dialectical form” of the obsolete “cap,” meaning “to seize.” And it says that probably could be traced back to the Latin verb “capere,” for “to take.”
But according to “Webster’s New Explorer Dictionary of Word Origins,” the case has been solved — and the culprit is an English verb “cop,” not “cap,” that appeared around 1700. It was slang for “to catch, capture,” and by 1844 it had appeared in print “to refer to what police do to criminals.”
Just two years later, “copper” appeared in print for “policeman” — “one who cops or catches or arrests criminals.”
In 1859, the noun “copper” was shortened to “cop.”
Would that case hold up in court? You be the judge.
September 23rd, 2009
We received a reader complaint about the use of “cops” in a headline on Sunday’s Local cover — “Rally for Rockford cops brings 1,000 downtown.” Here’s what the AP Stylebook has to say about “cop”:
“Be careful in the use of this colloquial term for ‘police officer.’ It may be used in lighter stories and in casual, informal descriptions, but often is a derogatory term out of place in serious police stories.”
In other words, it’s a judgment call — unless we choose to never use it, except in quoted material. I think that might be carrying sensitivity to an extreme, but there’s no shortage of sensitivity issues swirling around this case already.
We could have avoided the whole thing by substituting “local police” for “Rockford cops.” Yes, it would have been a bit shorter, but a lot safer.
Interestingly, John B. Bremner had this to say in “Words on Words”:
“As a noun, ‘cop’ is gaining respectability as a synonym for ‘policeman’ and does not seem to be resented by policemen. It is certainly more respectable than the barnyard word the crazies scream.”
That was back in 1980, and the barnyard word was, of course, “pigs.”
Notice, too, that Bremner used “policeman” and “policemen,” both of which would draw complaints today because of the gender component.
So word sensitivity is on the rise on more than one front — in case you hadn’t noticed.
September 11th, 2009
Here’s a group of words just begging to be mixed up.
The verb “censure” means “to express strong disapproval of,” while “censor” takes disapproval to another level by restricting or actually prohibiting the use of something.
As nouns, a “censure” is a condemnation, formal or otherwise, and a “censor” is a person in charge of limiting or shutting off access to information.
Both can be traced to the Latin verb “censere” for “to tax, value, judge.”
In ancient Rome, a “censor” was a magistrate in charge of taking the census and, later, overseeing public morals.
Also in this mix are “censer,” “an ornamented container in which incense is burned,” and “sensor,” a general term applied to various kinds of devices that detect, measure, record, transmit, etc.
Three of them are homonyms; only “censure” is pronounced differently, with a “sh” sound in the middle.
“Censure” is sort of a slap on the wrist for someone who has behaved badly. “Censorship” is generally an affront to all.
September 10th, 2009
There is a difference between being “bereaved” and being “bereft.” Both are listed as the past tense and past participle of the verb “bereave,” which is seldom used anymore in any other form.
It’s rooted in the Old English “bereafian,” meaning “to deprive, rob,” and this sense of “dispossess” is still the first definition of “bereave.” This is the case that calls for “bereft,” as in, “The war has left them bereft of hope,”
The second definition of “bereave” is “to leave in a sad or lonely state, as by loss or death.” This is the one we use for people who are in mourning — they are “the bereaved.”
As Bryan A. Garner points out in “Garner’s Modern American Usage,” “bereaved” applies to losses of people, and “bereft” applies to losses of “immaterial possessions or qualities.”
Either way, it’s a very sad situation.
September 9th, 2009
I was asked to say a few words about “incentives.” An “incentive” is “something that stimulates one to take action, work harder, etc.; stimulus; encouragement.” It’s a noun.
So far, there is no generally accepted verb form. I’ve heard of “incentivize” (avert your “-ize”!) and “incent,” which is nowhere to be found.
The time is probably coming when all nouns will have been converted to “-ize” verbs, but the language will be poorer for it.
Is it so awful to say “the program will include incentives” instead of “the program will be incentivized” or some such concoction?
If only we had an incentive program to encourage creativity and discourage such language laziness. It could be the inventive incentive.
September 4th, 2009
“Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”
In this famous passage from Shakespeare’s “Macbeth,” the word “cauldron” is spelled the traditional way, with a “u” in it.
Webster’s considers this the variant and prefers “caldron.” This is more in line with its Latin root “calderia,” which also gave rise to “caldarium” (”a room for taking hot baths” in ancient Rome) and “caldera” (”a broad, craterlike basin of a volcano”).
However, it just plain looks wrong without the “u.” And ever since it began evolving from Latin, it’s had one — first the Old French “cauderon,” then the Anglo-French and Middle English “caudron.” The “l” was reinserted during the Renaissance — not its only accomplishment, by the way.
Plus, according to “Garner’s Modern American Usage,” “cauldron” is the clear winner by 4-to-1 in American print sources.
So I vote against Webster’s and for “cauldron.”
September 3rd, 2009
People who are lactose-intolerant have enough problems, so it’s a good thing that living in the Milky Way isn’t one of them.
But there is a connection. The prefix “lacto-” comes from the Latin “lac” for “milk.”
The Milky Way, the spiral galaxy that contains our sun and our dear planet, is a literal translation of the Latin “via lactea.”
But wait, there’s more. The words “galaxy” and “galactic” come from the Greek “gala,” meaning, you guessed it, “milk.”
In fact, Webster’s lists “lactic” as the first definition of “galactic,” with the astronomical application second.
However, the English “gala,” meaning “a festive occasion” or “a public entertainment,” is not from the Greek one. According to “The Oxford Dictionary of Word Histories,” it came by way of Italian and Spanish from the Old French “gale,” or “rejoicing.” Webster’s speculates its origin may stretch back even further to the Arabic “khila,” which was “a royal presentation robe.”
And now I’ve probably milked this topic enough.
September 2nd, 2009
The verb “galvanize” has two specific meanings when applied to electricity: “to supply an electric current to” and “to plate metal with zinc.”Â
Generically, it can mean “to stimulate as if by electric shock,” so “galvanizing” is a cut above most motivation techniques. It should be confined to truly rousing or stirring situations.
Similarly, the adjective “galvanic” is equated with “startling or convulsive.”
The terms were inspired by 18th-century Italian physician and scientist Luigi Galvani, whose experiments with frogs and electricity were instrumental in the development of producing direct current by a chemical reaction — as with the storage battery.
Galvani was able to make dead frogs dance — now that’s galvanizing.
September 1st, 2009
Most “pay” nouns are properly written as one word: “payment,” “paycheck,” “payday,” “payload” and “payroll.”
This list even includes three nouns fashioned from verb phrases: “payback,” “payoff” and “payout.” However, write the verb phrases as two words: “We hope to pay off all our debts this year. It’s a long story, but here’s the payoff.”
The only common “pay” noun that’s two words is “pay dirt.”
And now that schools have reopened, here’s my annual reminder on Associated Press style for “grade” words:
Spell out the ordinals “first” through “ninth”; use numerals for “10th,” “11th” and “12th.”
Hyphenate modifiers (”fifth-grade student,” “11th-grade class”) and the “graders” (”second-grader,” “10th-grader”).
Also, note the hyphen in “grade-point average.”
And Webster’s preferred spelling is “kindergartner,” with two “e’s” instead of three.
Master these, and you may go to the head of my class.
