Occasionally a reader will remark that they had to look up a particular word in a piece of mine. My sense is, not so much as a reprimand, but just letting me know. And I don't feel sorry for making them do so, because there are a lot of words, nobody can know them all, and checking the definition of a word is both a hallmark of curiosity and a path to acquiring knowledge.
I look up words myself, all the time. For instance, I was having my coffee and Cream of Wheat Friday morning, reading the Sun-Times — I always read it first, before the New York Times, out of loyalty.
I settled on David Struett's article on testimony at the Jayden Perkins murder trial. The sort of story a reader naturally is drawn to — a grisly murder, a gripping trial, a fainting juror. Five paragraphs in, the doctor, who Struett said "switched from giving testimony to helping the juror" — smoothly put — said, "I think you probably just had a vagal response."
"A vagal response?" Does that mean anything to you? It didn't register with me, and I groped at what vagal might mean. Based on the first three letters, I thought, "vaginal," but surely that couldn't be it. Perhaps a matter of shared derivation.
What did the word "vagina" actually mean? I felt a momentary chill, because I was straying into gender politics territory. Best be on my guard. Center? Cleft? Fundamental? Those didn't sound right.
"Vagal" is the adjectival form of vagus, and according to Dr. Google AI: "The vagus nerve, also known as cranial nerve X, is a crucial part of the autonomic nervous system, playing a key role in regulating involuntary bodily functions like heart rate, digestion, and breathing." You can't always trust AI — on Tuesday, when I joyously nosed the car into the drive-thru at the White Castle on 111th Street, AI told me that a cheese slider is 340 calories, when that is actually two.
But that definition sounds accurate as opposed to fanciful.
So what is the etymology of "vagina"? It traces back to the Latin word vagina, which meant, not a sexual organ, but the scabbard you sheath your sword in. The word took on its current meaning in the Middle Ages, which seems apt.
The unchanging quality of the word reminded me of something I was thinking of about 3 a.m. in the morning, when. I was awake and thinking about the alphabet, which I sometimes do, trying to sleep (it's soothing; judge me harshly if you must). The opening letters of the English alphabet, A, B, C, D, line up with the opening letters of the Hebrew alphabet, א (aleph), בּ (bet), ג (gimel), ד (dalet). (The "C" and "G" sounds being very close). Which means a kid learning his ABCs down the street is going through the same drill that a Jewish boy in Babylonian captivity learned on letters drawn in the dirt.
What did the word "vagina" actually mean? I felt a momentary chill, because I was straying into gender politics territory. Best be on my guard. Center? Cleft? Fundamental? Those didn't sound right.
"Vagal" is the adjectival form of vagus, and according to Dr. Google AI: "The vagus nerve, also known as cranial nerve X, is a crucial part of the autonomic nervous system, playing a key role in regulating involuntary bodily functions like heart rate, digestion, and breathing." You can't always trust AI — on Tuesday, when I joyously nosed the car into the drive-thru at the White Castle on 111th Street, AI told me that a cheese slider is 340 calories, when that is actually two.
But that definition sounds accurate as opposed to fanciful.
So what is the etymology of "vagina"? It traces back to the Latin word vagina, which meant, not a sexual organ, but the scabbard you sheath your sword in. The word took on its current meaning in the Middle Ages, which seems apt.
The unchanging quality of the word reminded me of something I was thinking of about 3 a.m. in the morning, when. I was awake and thinking about the alphabet, which I sometimes do, trying to sleep (it's soothing; judge me harshly if you must). The opening letters of the English alphabet, A, B, C, D, line up with the opening letters of the Hebrew alphabet, א (aleph), בּ (bet), ג (gimel), ד (dalet). (The "C" and "G" sounds being very close). Which means a kid learning his ABCs down the street is going through the same drill that a Jewish boy in Babylonian captivity learned on letters drawn in the dirt.
See what I mean? Something comforting about that.
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