What Words Mean

That’s right: morning peeps. Do you read that and think 1) MPs – that’s just the name of the thread, or 2) MPs – she’s saying Good Morning People, or 3) MPs – she’s writing (peeping) in the morning?  My original intention was number two – sort of like Robin Williams saying, “Good Morning, Vietnam!” I’ve also come to think of myself as “peeping,” and that seems relevant since I’m usually watching the birds come to life as I write.

What do our words mean? What do we mean by our words? These questions are with me constantly. Before smartphones and apps, I always carried a dictionary in my car – in all three of our cars. I needed them not only to decipher the “intelligent talk” on public radio but also for the words that popped into my head. Whoa, where’d that come from, I’d think. Then, upon investigation, I’d discover it was just the word I needed.

My dog sitter routinely says, “love you guys,” and my wife will reply, “love you too.” There’s no way I’ll say those words to the sitter. I don’t love her, and to give an automatic and thoughtless response cheapens the words.

In my family of origin, words were honed, sharpened, and used as weapons on a battlefield. There was only ever one winner – my father, the English professor. He could take my words and organize them to use against me. I learned two things: don’t say much and when I do speak, be very careful. I didn’t want to end up crying, “That’s not what I said. I didn’t mean that.”

I don’t want to regret my words. I also don’t want to regret not using them.

Words, he decided, were inadequate at best, impossible at worst. They meant too many things. Or they meant nothing at all.  - Patricia A. McKillip, In The Forests of Serre

Because even the smallest of words can be the ones to hurt you, or save you.  - Natsuki Takaya

Loquaciously yours -