Release a Word into the World
Words, like fashion, suddenly appear everywhere. Two years ago I watched a young woman take out a fur lined hat complete with serious earmuffs and a strap, or perhaps tie to keep it on — a hat for the arctic, for an expedition. A large, cumbersome, and unnecessary covering for a balmy 40 degree day. Then I noticed similar hats at L.L. Bean and at a local clothing store. How did this become a fad or a fashion statement?
Words gain a footing and then go viral or at least start appearing in newspapers, magazines, newscasts and then ordinary people sprinkle the word in conversations. In time the word, if it is new or formed out of several words or changes its form, appears in the Urban Dictionary and then in more conventional dictionaries.
It as if the word is released into the atmosphere and is picked up by people and passed from person to person.
Several days ago I heard a photographer speak about shooting an iconic photo. "That's what you aim for," he told a rapt audience, "iconic photos."
Today I picked up the Wall Street Journal and read a story about new headphones. The company referred to their headphones as iconic.
Seated at a coffee shop the man in a nearby table took a bite of his sandwich and said to his table mate, "This is an iconic humus sandwich—just enough bite and surrounded by the right combo of cut up salad."
Webster jumps from icon to iconicity—perhaps it's not the newest edition. We understand the word to mean awesome, one of a kind, something to be revered. Perhaps having the characteristics of an icon.
My edition, albeit an older edition of Roget's Thesaurus, doesn't even list iconic.
A friend of mine once referred to her signature meal. Different time, different word. Today that same meal becomes iconic.
So many questions. How do we select what is iconic? Does something become iconic for a short while and then lose out to something else? Or is it like icons—painted they remain icons, but has the word taken on so many variations that the original religious painting loses out to the graphic icons associated with computers.
That brings me to a look inward. The word is out there—released into the world, ready for use. Do I have anything iconic? Have I accomplished anything iconic? Have I created anything iconic?
My meals are usually basic. My clothes are basic—light in the spring, dour in the winter. My reading is eclectic. Have I written an iconic poem —for me? That's it,you identify what is iconic. What a relief. But this is not always the case.
After five years the "International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature" declared that The Natural History Museum's Archaeopteryx was to be designated as a primary reference specimen "of this iconic bird".
And in July of this year the Children's Museum of Indianapolis asked people to identify their favorite toy growing up. Over 24,000 people thought about the question and responded— the winner G.I. Joe. After they tallied the votes a list was created of the top twenty "Iconic toys." I must admit surprise when I saw that Barbie only attained fourth place. But looking at the list made me realize why I have difficulty with the word—my choice did make the list, but eighteenth.
I found the Magna Carta referred to as an iconic document.
On July 1, 2011 The Boston Globe writing about the Declaration of Independence said, " several weeks before the signing of the now-iconic handwritten copy on parchment..."
And just recently the headline from the Daily Brew Saskatchewan drops iconic wheat sheaf logo, declaring we're just wheat.
I've read about so many iconic symbols, monuments, animals—sayings, that I think that by next year the word will need to be replaced by something more iconic. It will lose its salt. Then another word—released into the world will take hold of our imaginations.
I think that I shall be a contrarian and check into the Oxford English Dictionary's campaign to save abandoned archaic or dropped words.
Tomorrow I'll check their site—Save the Words— and adopt a word and release it into the world.
The site is no longer operating. I'll have to seek out an endangered word.
Words gain a footing and then go viral or at least start appearing in newspapers, magazines, newscasts and then ordinary people sprinkle the word in conversations. In time the word, if it is new or formed out of several words or changes its form, appears in the Urban Dictionary and then in more conventional dictionaries.
It as if the word is released into the atmosphere and is picked up by people and passed from person to person.
Several days ago I heard a photographer speak about shooting an iconic photo. "That's what you aim for," he told a rapt audience, "iconic photos."
Today I picked up the Wall Street Journal and read a story about new headphones. The company referred to their headphones as iconic.
Seated at a coffee shop the man in a nearby table took a bite of his sandwich and said to his table mate, "This is an iconic humus sandwich—just enough bite and surrounded by the right combo of cut up salad."
Webster jumps from icon to iconicity—perhaps it's not the newest edition. We understand the word to mean awesome, one of a kind, something to be revered. Perhaps having the characteristics of an icon.
My edition, albeit an older edition of Roget's Thesaurus, doesn't even list iconic.
A friend of mine once referred to her signature meal. Different time, different word. Today that same meal becomes iconic.
So many questions. How do we select what is iconic? Does something become iconic for a short while and then lose out to something else? Or is it like icons—painted they remain icons, but has the word taken on so many variations that the original religious painting loses out to the graphic icons associated with computers.
That brings me to a look inward. The word is out there—released into the world, ready for use. Do I have anything iconic? Have I accomplished anything iconic? Have I created anything iconic?
My meals are usually basic. My clothes are basic—light in the spring, dour in the winter. My reading is eclectic. Have I written an iconic poem —for me? That's it,you identify what is iconic. What a relief. But this is not always the case.
After five years the "International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature" declared that The Natural History Museum's Archaeopteryx was to be designated as a primary reference specimen "of this iconic bird".
And in July of this year the Children's Museum of Indianapolis asked people to identify their favorite toy growing up. Over 24,000 people thought about the question and responded— the winner G.I. Joe. After they tallied the votes a list was created of the top twenty "Iconic toys." I must admit surprise when I saw that Barbie only attained fourth place. But looking at the list made me realize why I have difficulty with the word—my choice did make the list, but eighteenth.
I found the Magna Carta referred to as an iconic document.
On July 1, 2011 The Boston Globe writing about the Declaration of Independence said, " several weeks before the signing of the now-iconic handwritten copy on parchment..."
And just recently the headline from the Daily Brew Saskatchewan drops iconic wheat sheaf logo, declaring we're just wheat.
I've read about so many iconic symbols, monuments, animals—sayings, that I think that by next year the word will need to be replaced by something more iconic. It will lose its salt. Then another word—released into the world will take hold of our imaginations.
I think that I shall be a contrarian and check into the Oxford English Dictionary's campaign to save abandoned archaic or dropped words.
Tomorrow I'll check their site—Save the Words— and adopt a word and release it into the world.
The site is no longer operating. I'll have to seek out an endangered word.
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