Things my eldest child continues to teach me

by Pat Laster

First, my second-born teaches me that what I thought were dandelions are a type of coreopsis.
Next, the youngest teaches me about reusing fan blades rather than buying a new fan. The third-born teaches me how to text. Except for Kid Billy, my “fifth-wheel,” there is one child whom I haven’t yet mentioned in this context.
I have inherited (!) from my first-born, Gordon--the one who turned fifty last month--the tendency to make lists. When he was a teen, he would sometimes sit in his room, listen to the radio and make a log of what songs played and when and how often. If my in-progress compendium of journal jottings (lists) ever hits the printing press, he might be the one to do it.
Gordon sends me bundles of the weekly New York Times Book Reviews. I read/skim them, have ordered books, and learned new words. So my first-born has taught me to broaden my reading horizons. Thank you, son.
Speaking of new words, picture this. Six women, two in their eighties, two in our seventies and two in their sixties, standing or sitting before a table holding six music stands, six copies of music, and with a tone bar in each hand-- what we refer to as bells.
Before we begin, one woman comments how she enjoyed reading Roy Blount, Jr.’s Alphabetter Juice: the Joy of Text, which I lent her at her request. Before long, the word “copacetic” escaped someone’s lips. Another said, “Oh, I haven’t heard that word since my husband died. ‘Copacetic’ was one of his favorite words.”
Readers, this was astounding! I had seen the word in print; in fact, that very night, I read an essay that ended with “copacetic.” Next morning, I emailed the group to see who actually used that word in the air we were breathing. No one admitted it. One said, “Unless it came out of my subconscious.” It means excellent; first rate; fine.
I will have to say, the bell rehearsal that day was copacetic.
Trying my best to learn (and use, perhaps) new words has been a project since I began serious journaling. I keep a document called “Unknown Words and Phrases.” And their meanings—why else? But some words just don’t make it deeply enough into my gray matter at first, and I have to re-look-up the meanings.
“Misanthrope,” for example. “A person who hates or distrusts all people.”
And “scrum.” I’ve seen that twice lately. And without context, I’m at a loss. It is too new for both of my dictionaries, so I go online. In rugby, Wikipedia says, a “scrum” refers to the manner of restarting the game after a minor infraction.
In another context, “Scrum is an iterative, incremental framework for project management…” Math teachers probably called it “show-the-steps-in-your-solution.”
Aha! Scrum is already in my list of unknown words, but with this definition: “a disordered or confused situation involving a number of people, as in a “scrum of photographers.”
I pretty well know the words, “ennui,” “angst,” and “genre.” If I learn one or two every now and then . . . well, that will be copacetic. #

c 2011, Pat Laster dba lovepat press