In a recent column, I said that “serendipity” is one of my favorite words. I have many other words that I like, too. I’m a word person.
I’ve always liked words. I like experimenting with them, finding the many ways in which I can arrange them (or rearrange them) in order to convey a certain meaning or message. I like the way words help me to communicate, how they give me the ability to express myself in ways in which I would not otherwise be able. I’m a word person.
I like learning new words. That’s why I subscribe to two different websites that send me new and different words daily. I like to find cool, underused words and learn their meanings. I’m pretty sure that I’ll probably still be learning new words until I die. I’m a word person.
I like that new words are continually being added to the English language. Even if I were to manage to learn every single word in the English dictionary (that’s pretty unlikely), then I could still go on to learn new words in other languages. I’m a word person.
Do you ever have the feeling that you wish you’d been the one to say something? I recently heard on Public Radio about a letter written by a guy named Robert Pirosh, and I had that familiar feeling that I wished I’d said that. Here’s part of the letter:
“I like words. I like fat buttery words, such as ooze, turpitude, glutinous, toady. I like solemn, angular, creaky words, such as straitlaced, cantankerous, pecunious, valedictory. I like spurious, black-is-white words, such as mortician, liquidate, tonsorial, demi-monde. I like suave “V” words, such as Svengali, svelte, bravura, verve. I like crunchy, brittle, crackly words, such as splinter, grapple, jostle, crusty.
I like sullen, crabbed, scowling words, such as skulk, glower, scabby, churl. I like Oh-Heavens, my-gracious, land’s-sake words, such as tricksy, tucker, genteel, horrid. I like elegant, flowery words, such as estivate, peregrinate, elysium, halcyon. I like wormy, squirmy, mealy words, such as crawl, blubber, squeal, drip. I like sniggly, chuckling words, such as cowlick, gurgle, bubble, and burp.”
Don’t you love it? Don’t you love the way Pirosh has categorized the words? The way he’s characterized them with wonderful adjectives which are as colorful as the words he’s describing? I wish I’d said that! But I didn’t, so I’ll just stand back and admire it.
One of the problems with being a word person is that people sometimes get turned off if you use words they don’t understand, so sometimes you just have to keep them to yourself. I like the multi-syllabic words that can so perfectly fit particular situations, but I don’t often use them. But isn’t fun to bump into the words when you’re reading a book and you can gloat (to yourself), “Aha, I know that word! I’m a word person!”
I think I have a pretty good vocabulary. I’ve read that a first-grade student uses roughly 1,000 words and that a college grad uses roughly 10 percent of the 100,000 or so words in the dictionary. (I’m not counting scientific terms and names of insects, etc.)
I think I’m probably at the upper end of the “college grad” category — not in my spoken language nor my written, but in my knowledge. But now I’m just bragging, boasting, crowing, blustering, exulting, gasconading, grandstanding, hotdogging, jiving, prating, rodomontading, showboating, swaggering, vaunting, right? But then, I’m a word person!
Word person or not, it’s sometimes best to keep our mouths shut. A well-timed silence can be just as meaningful. Martin Luther King Jr. once said: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” And Martin Luther King was a word person!
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