Words, words, words

 This has been the days and nights of Hanukkah. Each night for eight nights I lit the candles and recited the blessings. I think it is comforting to add light to the wintry darkness. This past week, as well, occurred the longest night of the year. On this date I inevitably think of Daisy Fay Buchanan who complains that she always waits for the longest day of the year but then misses it!  I think that I wouldn’t regret missing the shortest day of the year; here in the Midwest it is always so damn cold and very dark! Anyway, this year I remembered a Hanukkah almost 60 years past. We always lit the candles in our home, and in the competitive environment surrounding Christmas our parents gave us children a present on each of the nights though as financial resources became less available, first night gift-giving became the practice. I don’t remember how old I might have been on this particular Hanukkah night, but I must have certainly graduated from high school because such resources were not then available or even spoken of in class. But on this first night, I received as a gift the two-volume Compact Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary purchased with books of S&H Green Stamps my mother had collected over many, many shopping trips. Having these books changed my life: from them I recognized that language had history; language was not static nor insular. Words could come and go; the meaning of a word changed, and with that change so did reality. In possession of those volumes, I had yet another key to understanding. When I learned what a word had meant then, I believed I had gained some insight now, though I am not certain that then I knew to what that insight really meant. Nevertheless, in possession of these volumes and the knowledge they contained, I felt rich.
            I find in my journal that I have copied the following confession from Montaigne’s essay, “On Vanity.” He admits, “I write my book for few men and for few years. If it had been durable matter, it would have had to be committed to a more stable language.” As I had earlier learned from my OED, language was never stable, though I must acknowledge that the bound complete works of Montaigne suggests that his book has been, indeed, durable matter. But his is a very modest admission and the very opposite of vanity. Language is unstable and hardly static, something that the reactionary Supreme Court justices do not understand. Alas, I know what it is to write for few men!
           I learned, too, that language was fun, not exactly a reference to what Wittgenstein meant in his designation of ‘language games,’ but an exciting game nevertheless. An ordinary instance: When someone expresses pleasure in an object, an event or even another person, Cool acts as an expression of pleasure, an acknowledgement that something is good and pleasing: We might say, “Ah, this is so cool,” or “he’s cool,” or “that outfit is cool.” Ironically however, when we want to express displeasure with something we employ the extreme: “He acts so cold to me.” “That’s cold, man.” Of course, in the Midwest to say “It’s cold” is a common description of the weather from November to April, and it is certainly not in that instance a very positive measure! But the moderate ‘cool’ expresses approval and the extreme measure ‘cold’ continues as a negative assessment.
           The opposite is sometimes true with another temperature metaphor. Whereas the word ‘cold’ expresses disapproval, the use of the adjective ‘hot’ can often express admiration: “That nightclub is so hot, I love being there;” we say “Ah, that person is so hot.” These turns of phrase are considered as complimentary expressions of approval. And the less sizzling ‘warm’ also suggests an expression of compliment. We might say, “The boss responded to my idea warmly.” But the expression ‘lukewarm’ does not express approval; rather, referring to something as ‘lukewarm’ is not meant as positive assessment and suggests that the idea might be rethought or abandoned altogether. But when baking bread the yeast is to be softened in lukewarm water. Knowing the rules of the game in which language occurs creates the meaning of language. The rules of the game includes the social, historical, cultural and personal context from which the word(s) arrive and into which it enters. These contexts are neither static nor durable. And I think that is a good thing.