Wordcatcher (25 page)

Gorgonize

Gauzy, silky, flimsy.
A mellifluous word; a diaphanous derivation. Seven centuries ago in 14th-century England, “goose” was
gos
, and “summer” was
sumer
, and together they referred to “goose-summer,” the time when “summer goose” appear, what we now call Indian summer. As hunters and hikers know, it’s the time of year when the “summer goose” are most seen, and since seen, hunted, and eaten; it’s also the time of year for those silken filaments of goose down that float through the air like flying cobwebs. To picture the phenomenon, imagine the gauzy veils worn by the Three Graces in Botticelli’s
Primavera
. Also, remember the uplifting photographs and video of Paul MacCready’s invention, “Gossamer Wings,” the first
completely man-powered flight. Edgar Allan Poe wrote, “There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and
gossamer
fidelity of mere man.”

Gossamer

Originally,
glamour
was a version of
grammar
, alluding to knowledge, especially of the occult, and skill in words and syntax; originally, “knowing one’s letters.” The great Jamieson tried to comb out the knot of meanings between the two. He suggested that
glamour
was a subtle form of magic because of the folk belief that those who knew their
grammar
well were considered to be
magicians
by those who didn’t. This is borne out by the Old French
grammaire
, a grammarian, a magician, and the earlier Greek
grammatike
and
techne
, the art or technique of making letters, as well as
gramma
, a written letter. The term
grammar school
dates back to 1387, and described a place where “the learned languages are
grammatically
taught.” By the 17th century,
grammar
referred to any language taught
grammatically
or technically, but soon afterward Johnson saw the inherent pedagogical dangers when he coined the term
grammaticaster
, a mean and verbal pedant. The power to cast a spell for good or ill lives on in our word
glamour,
born of this sense of enchantment with words and education. Thus,
glamour
is the language of magical attraction, as
grammar
is
glamorized
language. To this day, if those 800-page issues of
Vogue
magazine are any indication,
glamour
is “magical beauty” conjured up to cast a spell, a fashionable enchantment, as
The Devil Wears Prada
revealed sulfurously well, designed to impress through a kind of hypnosis. Likewise, in literary circles
grammar
is language endowed with magical, mythical significance. Companion words include
glamour puss,
a person with an attractive face, and
grammaticaster
, a verbal pedant, low grammarian.

Affable, sociable, agreeable
. Words that flock together apparently stay together. Thus,
gregarious
literally means belonging to a flock of sheep, from the Latin
grex
, flock, but figuratively it suggests the quality of being amiable in a crowd, enthusiastic in the company of others. Companion words include
aggregate
, collect the flock,
congregate
, assemble the flock, and
separate
, keep apart the flock, plus
egregious
, standing out from the flock—figuratively, “excellent,” and only later corrupted to mean “outrageous.” The suave actor Peter O’Toole says of his own infamous social behavior, “I’m the most
gregarious
of men and love good company, but never less alone than when alone.” Together, this flock of words illustrates the powerful influence of our ancient herding instincts on our language. In this sense, collective nouns are a
gregarious
use of imagination: a skulk of foxes, a crash of rhinoceroses, a parliament of owls.

Tipsy from overdrinking; unsteady; hazy, as after a nap.
Aptly named after the coarse-grained
grogham
breeches/pants worn by the English Admiral Vernon, nicknamed “
Old Grog
” (c. 1740), who began the practice of diluting with
water the rum or spirits allotted by law to his sailors to prevent them from “intoxicating themselves.” Presumably, if they were only a little drunk—
groggy—
they would still be able to perform their naval duties for God and country. Incidentally, there are hundreds of words in the OED for being
zozzled
, or
spifflicated,
in Robert Cawdrey’s 1604 dictionary. According to the BBC, in 2008 there were no fewer than 141 euphemisms for the besotted condition. However, wordsmith Paul Dickson has collected over 3,000 English synonyms for
drunk
, far surpassing Benjamin Franklin’s legendary list of 228 “round-about phrases” to describe the
befuggered
state, which appeared on January 13, 1737, in the
Pennsylvania Gazette
. Woozy companion words include
besotted, befuggered, befuddled, blotto, crapulous, dipso, hooched, plotzed, shnockered, schnicked, soused, sizzled, stinko, zombied,
and
zonked
. Not to mention the all too visual
pavement pizza
to describe the painted results of being such.

An imaginary creature with four telescopic legs
. Miraculously, these legs lift up and down, depending on which side of a mountain it is grazing on, shorter legs on one side of its body enabling it to walk easily on steep hillsides, and a long, tough tail that can wrap around rocks to keep it from falling down the hill. These are frequent creatures that freckle the hills of Sonoma on our way to visit Grandma, as I used to tease my son. Look at
gyascutus
and you’ll find a
hillside full of fellow mythical creatures, such as the “sidewinder” and the “rickaboo racker.” Stranger than fiction, however, is the axolotl, the Mexican salamander with a face like Charlie Brown and a body like the Marvel comic book hero Madcap, who owns the mutagenic power to regenerate his damaged body parts at will. Companion word-animals include
badger
, defined by Sir Thomas Browne as having legs longer on one side of its body than the other.