The title of this post is, according to my Mom's notes in my babybook, one of my earliest inventions. Now, many decades later, I still enjoy the sound of that word: Congraturaisins! And I am grateful to my wonderful mother for taking the time to make note of it, for I'd otherwise have lost it by the time I turned four.
One of my most prized possessions is a beautifully handmade book that my friend Thom created for me back in the 60's. The entire book is handcrafted and within are dozens and dozens of words and phrases we'd singly and together coined over the years, all laid out in lovely calligraphy. Thom's lexicon is a vivid reminder of how we not only survived secondary school, but even thrived through it.
My second grade teacher, Mr. Heinichen, invented a writing, art and reading project that I loved. The whole class was randomly divided into three groups. We were each given a blank book made of stapled together pages of newsprint paper, the lefthand pages blank, the righthand pages printed with thin blue lines used as guides for our printing. We'd go through a cycle:
• Day One, draw a picture or illustration, either with a story in mind, or just something you liked, using crayons.
• Day Two, on the facing, lined page, write a story to go with the picture. Each of us had a little file box, and when you wanted to use a word but didn't know how to write it, you'd go to Mr. Heinichen and he'd help you write that word on its own little card so you could file it in the box alphabetically. (Way to motivate vocabulary building, Mr. H!)
• Day Three, each member of your group takes turns reading their story aloud to the whole class, all gathered around on the Story Carpet, holding up the picture for all to see while reading in a clear voice. And everyone learned to listen!
This project, as I recall, went on all year, so that each of us got lots of opportunity to get over any "I can't draw," "I can't think of anything," or "I'm afraid to speak in front of the whole class" fears. Instead of writing lots of separate stories, I wrote volume after volume of Red Balloon adventures. By Thanksgiving I'd even learned how to capture my audience's ongoing interest by leaving the beloved Red Balloon in cliffhanging situations. What fun! And how I loved filling my box with new words.
Friends who know me from The Book of Faces may very well be familiar with the following. When my friends, in speaking or writing, use words unconsciously or sloppily or downright incorrectly, I tend to pipe up. I'm trying to bring my reflexive responses under control, as folks are inclined to trot out phrases like, "Here comes the Word Police again!" When people are trying to express themselves, they usually do not care to receive commentary on how they are doing it. I'm generally a very pleasant person. This is, I'm sure, one of my shortcomings.
During my graduate studies of Gestalt Therapy I got tuned in to the way our syntax can empower or disempower us. Our English teachers have long and valiantly reminded us about the wisdom of using the passive voice selectively. My Gestalt guru, Fritz Perls, went even further. For example, one often hears oneself or, more likely, others saying something like, "I'm throwing a party next Saturday. Hopefully you can come." The meaning is clear. But besides using the adverb "hopefully" in an incorrect manner, the speaker is castrating the phrase by saying "Hopefully.." instead of "I hope that...." Changing one's syntax takes practice. At first it just feels awkward. But I find that speaking clearly about what I want and what I need and what I am hearing goes a long way in revitalizing my conversations, and also makes me a better listener.
My dear husband indulges my love of words. We name not only our creatures, but also our home (Liefje...beloved in Dutch), our cars (mine is Verdi, his is Bella), and even some of the trees on our property (i.e. Mable the Maple in our front yard). And of course, the kitties have numerous names each. Way back when we settled on Caperson (Capron/Henderson) as our once and future pets' last name.
P.S. While I really don't know who is reading my blog, I occasionally get a little note from a reader, which is nice!