I’m trained as an ESOL (English for Speakers of Other Languages) teacher, having received my endorsement after an intense program at Portland State University. During my studies there, I learned about the acquisition of language, including funny sounding subjects such as glottal stops and schwas. But who knew, years later, that I would continue informally studying linguistics while preparing for surgery and practicing yoga?
The word linguistics, which my 2,660-page Webster’s unabridged dictionary defines as “the study of human speech in its various aspects … including the relation between writing and speech,” begins with the four letters “ling,” as do 50 other words in my weighty reference. Here are just a few: Lingual means “of or relating to the tongue;” a linguister is an interpreter; linguatulosis is an “infestation with or disease caused by tongue worms.” If you see the preface “ling,” it’s likely the word has something to do with a tongue.
When learning another language, it’s helpful if a word in one language sounds or looks like a word in the other language. In Spanish, the word for tongue is “lengua” and language is “lenguaje.” “Leng” bears quite a bit of resemblance to “ling,” both aurally and visually. We call these words cognates. When learning another language, cognates can be very helpful. Beware, though, of false cognates. At some point, most beginning Spanish students have mistakenly used the word “embarazada” — meaning “pregnant” — when they were just trying to communicate their embarrassment. Many a high school boy has blushed a deep crimson after making this mistake.
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Lately, I’ve spent a lot of time filling out medical forms and waiting in doctors’ offices. Over and over, I am asked to review a list of surgical procedures that all end with the same four letters. Have I ever had an appendectomy, fistulotomy, hysterectomy, lumpectomy, mastectomy, tonsillectomy … ? The list seems endless. I reply to the affirmative on some, and whisper silent thanks for the boxes I leave blank. Later I return to my behemoth dictionary. “Tomy” means “incision” from the Greek “tomos,” or “cutting.” Who knew there would be a linguistics lesson hidden in the pages of a surgeon’s questionnaire?
The antidotes for all these medical visits are mornings spent studying yoga with my wonderful teacher Kathy Kacena. In addition to helping us learn how to breathe, move our bodies, and still our minds, Kathy offers enlightening readings during each class. This past weekend the reading was about the word “sincere.” Break apart this ancient Latin word into syllables, and you get “sin cere,” meaning “without wax.”
Huh? What does genuine honesty have to do with wax? My confusion was abated when Kathy continued reading. It turns out, in ancient Rome stone and marble merchants’ markets were as ubiquitous as local U.S. farmers’ markets are today. Many of these stone merchants were dishonest, and disguised cracks in their marble by filling the cracks with wax, in hopes that their unwary customers would think the stones free from flaws. Only the scrupulously honest merchants sold their stones “without wax.” Hence, they were more sincere than their dishonest neighbors.
Kathy also shared with us a fascinating fact about language: 80 percent of our communication is non-verbal. Thus, when we resort to communicating only through our words (especially via cell phones and computers) instead of in person, we are only using 20 percent of our communication skills. This fact led me to an “ah-ha” moment. I’ve always wondered why I was able to speak to folks in Spanish when person-to-person, and why it is nearly impossible to do so over the telephone with the same people. Body language and facial expressions are crucial to understanding.
Person-to-person communication skills are critically necessary when facing medical decisions and procedures. Fifteen years ago, I was diagnosed with Ductal Carcinoma In Situ, a long name having to do with breast cancer cells that haven’t invaded any tissue beyond the ducts. I had surgery (one of those “tomy”s ) and radiation. Through it all, the face-to-face conversations with medical staff, and the hands-on, healing touch of friends and family, were critical in my recovery.
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If you wonder, as I did, what the name of this particular form of breast cancer has to do with Insitu, the Boeing-owned aerospace company and major local Gorge employer, here’s an explanation from Wikipedia, a modern tool that weighs considerably less than my dictionary: “‘In situ’ is a Latin phrase that translates literally to ‘on site’ or ‘in position.’ It means ‘locally,’ ‘on site,’ ‘on the premises’ or ‘in place’ to describe an event where it takes place, and is used in many different contexts …” Wikipedia further explains, “Insitu was founded in the early 1990s to develop the Aerosonde concept for long-range weather reconnaissance. The company name derives from the objective of measuring the atmosphere in situ, as opposed to remotely by satellite.”
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