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We now find ourselves at the beginning of a palindromic year, dear pals and pallets upon which I paint and peel a few words every month.
It's also a new word for me, but William Saffire used it Sunday on Meet the Depressed and my ears perked up because I was already very aware of the symmetry of 2002. I wrote about similar symmetry back in 1991 without knowing the proper terminology for it. Since the placement and configuration of numbers are part of my grid - do you recall that I'm a walking phone book? - I'm drawn to 2002 like a duck to water, a frog to a lily pad, a gopher to a hole.
In plain language, a palindrome is "a word, phrase, verse, or sentence that reads the same backward or forward." Simple examples would be boob, peep, toot, pop, and poop. I immediately detected that the inclusive definition from The American Heritage Dic-tion-ary did not include "numbers," which is probably why Mr. Saffire used the adjective rather than the noun in referring to 2002.
He also called this palindromic phenomenon a rare occurrence, without going into detail. As far as I can determine, it occurs in calendar years once every century which is, indeed, rare. It occurred toward the end of the 20th century, obviously with 1991, and in this 21st century we're getting it out of the way
earlier than it's ever happened since the 11th century with 1001, which is rather binary as you can see. And I'm talking A.D. The reverse images in B.C. would also be palindromic, of course.
So here we are today in a New Year, one that can be read the same backward and forward. Might it portend of things to come? I hope so. It sounds good to me. I, personally, would like the substance of me to be read the same whether I was in reverse or drive or park. I'd like to think that what is significant and true in a person remains unchanged despite the angle from which it is perceived.
Symmetry speaks to me of balance and harmony. It tells me that, although there may be a dividing line, and various idiosyncrasies, the form and substance stand the same on both sides. It speaks of dear friendship to me because dear friendship depends on harmony of form and substance. It goes below surface relationships and dividing lines. Does that not, therefore, speak of peace? I wish for melodies of harmony, and for peace in this palindromic year.
Allan asked about a new word last week. He's reading Lonesome Dove, a very large book, large in many ways, about a cowboy's life in the saddle and on the range, herding cattle from Texas to Montana, and he - Allan, as well as the cowboy -- came across a "shoat."
Asked the inquiring mind from the sofa, "What's a shoat?" My speedy turn to American Heritage revealed that it's a young pig just after weaning. Since Allan tells several stories about the adventurous farm days of his youth, some of which center on shoats, the word should come in handy for him.
"Do you know what 'lowing' means?" the reclined fellow asked his editor. I didn't have to stretch very far to reply, "It's the moo part of a cow. It happens every year at Christmas time in Away in a Manger when the cattle are lowing and the poor Baby sleeps."
Most of the new words I come across are also earthy, in another way. A lot of them are used by Richard John Neuhaus, editor of First Things, in case you're inter-ested. I think he uses them on purpose just to make me mad. There's no reason to get quite so carried away with vocabu-lary, is there? Should one word carry that much weight in a thought or a sentence?
I'll spare you the grief and give you upfront the definitions to some of RJN's words that I've had to look up lately.
"Matinal" means "relating to the early part of the day." Now I know approxi-mately when religious folk pray the matins - before noon.
"Emetic" means "causing vomiting." I understand exactly, in this age of wayward modernism, why a good man would suffer the use of that word.
"Phantasmagoria" means "a fantastic sequence of haphazardly associative imagery, as seen in dreams or a fever." Having many dreams and hot flashes, I shall try to keep track of this one.
"Epigone" means "a second-rate imitator or follower, especially of an artist or philosopher." Many of us are this, I suspect, when it comes to the One born and raised and died for us, though we would like to think otherwise.
"Aphonia" means "loss of the voice resulting from disease, injury to the vocal chords, or various psychological causes." I was speechless for about ten days in early December when my vocal chords were affected by a virus of some sort, but I had no idea I was aphonic.
"Efflorescence" means "a gradual process of unfolding or developing to the highest point, the culmination." Sounds like a caterpillar in the process of becoming a butterfly, and when I get my wings I'll be sure a bell rings in this wonderful life.
I am a fan of Richard John Neuhaus, despite and because of his repertoire of communication. He loves to use words to reveal truth, and he abhors the use of words to lie. Says he, "To lie is to sin against words. Words bear the structure of trust on which all life depends."
I am at this time reminded of another Word, the one that happened at Christmas time. "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and Word was God ... the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us."
Yes, definitions stand! Words do mean something. One word does carry much weight in thought, in sentence, in life. We must paint and peel for clarity and knowledge in this palindromic year or we shall drown ourselves and others in the lukewarm mush of mediocrity. --Sue
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