I have a confession to make. I am a logophile. I am, as defined by the Oxford English Dictionary, “a person who is obsessively interested in words.” Dare I say “a verbivore”?
As a logophile I am crazy about word games — Bananagrams, Wordle, crossword puzzles, and especially Scrabble. I have four scrabble boards: The one we had growing up (lid corners taped umpteen times), a newer version kept in the camper, one with a plastic board that sits and spins on a turntable, and a Super Scrabble version that has a larger board with quadruple value spaces and contains a bag with more letters than the standard game. I am also somewhat addicted to Scrabble Go, the app on my phone. And, of course, I own The Official Scrabble Players Dictionary, 7th Edition, that Jim gave me for Christmas 2022.
I am not ashamed at all of the number of Scrabble boards in my collection. After all, my amateur-astronomer husband has seven telescopes, two of which he claims he plans to sell. Yeah, right.
Speaking of Scrabble, I am fascinated by high-point words. Anyone who’s played the game might recall that Q and Z are worth 10 points; J and X, 8 points; K, 5 points; F, H, V, W, Y, 4 points; B, C, M, P, 3 points; D and G, 2 points; and L, N, S, T, R, and all the usual vowels, 1 point. This is all to explain the I am particularly intrigued by those words with letters worth 3 or higher.
Besides being fun to say “coccyx” — pronounced “kok-siks” (meaning the tailbone) — is a big value word. If there were no bonus squares under those letters, the tiles would be worth 22 points. In my studies of the word, I learned that Galen of Pergamon, a Greek physician, surgeon, and philosopher (c. AD 216), thought the bone at the end of the spine resembled a cuckoo’s beak and called it “kokkus,” which became “coccyx” in Latin and remains that in English.
When one gets near the end of a Scrabble game, it is beneficial to know a lot of two-, three-, and four-letter words. You may have told someone to “shut your yap,” “yap” being slang for mouth or for shrill, noisy, foolish talk; as a verb, it means to yelp or bark sharply. I learned sometime in many years of playing Scrabble that adding a second “p” at the end creates a word referring to a bookbinding having soft edges that project beyond and fold over, protecting the pages. A 19th century bookseller, Willian Yapp, invented this type of binding that was given his name. How’s that for an eponym?
In the past year I have been prompted to use “amok” to describe a segment of our Congress and our Supreme Court “as running amok.” Regardless of your political affiliation, you could employ that word in a description of your least favored faction. Maybe even a school board or church elders. Be careful! I’ll limit it here to my Scrabble board (a 4-lettter, 10-point word).
Here’s a valuable word using a “k” and a “z,” “zonkey.” C’mon, you know what that is — a cross between a zebra and a donkey. Yes, there is such a thing, and the word appears in my Scrabble dictionary, a 22-pointer before any bonus tiles are applied. While I’m troubled when humans engineer new breeds by combining existing species, I do like how knowing those words becomes useful in Scrabble: liger, grolar (bear), wholphins, camas, beefalo, and geep. I have been guilty of re-creating, what was a relatively new species in 1955, by adding “labra” to an existing “doodle” on a game board.
It was Marlyn Koons who instilled in me that initial love of words and language. Marlyn (a previous writer of this column) was one of my high school English teachers, a colleague for the last year she taught at Norwell, and a treasured friend. In fact, it was Marlyn who inspired me to become an English teacher. In her classroom words became gems whether we were looking at Emily Dickinson’s sparse use of them in a poem or the “word picture” Melville drew of a great white whale hunt or Fitzgerald’s images of a lavish 1920s party on the grounds of an opulent mansion beyond the decaying billboard of Dr. T.J. Eckleberg in the “valley of ashes.” Marlyn introduced me to one of the loves of my life — words.
In the article “Learn About the Grammatical Term ‘Logophile,’” Richard Nordquist says “A person who loves language plays with it — hears words and links them with other sounds, other meanings, other words.” I am an appreciator of puns and creator of them as well, much to the chagrin of many around me. I can be annoying in that way.
One of my all-time favorite words — just because I like the sound of it — is “serendipity.” It also reminds me of a book series by that title I bought when my daughter was a toddler. I read them to her and later Danielle read them to me or herself. She especially loved Stephen Cosgroves’ “Leo the Lop” and “Morgan Morning.” If you have young children or grandchildren, consider purchasing the series or a book or two. Instill the love of words and language in young ones. I promise they won’t all become annoying logophiles like me.
Here’s the Thing: It’s never too early to nurture a love of words. I actually read to Danielle in utero, long before she was born. And it’s also never too late. I wonder what words are favorites of yours and why they’re favorites.
Let’s talk.
annaspalding1956@gmail.com
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Editor’s Note: This is one of a series of articles written by a group of retired and current teachers — LaNae Abnet, Ken Ballinger, Billy Kreigh, Kathy Schwartz, and Anna Spalding. Their intent is to spur discussions at the dinner table and elsewhere. You may also voice your thoughts and reactions via The News-Banner’s letters to editor.
