Number 70
Today's e-mail from Garner's Modern American Usage points out that "Calvary" and "cavalry" are often confused both in pronunciation and in spelling. "Calvary" is the place near Jerusalem where Jesus was crucified. "Cavalry" is a military unit on horseback, or in modern times, in vehicles. I've got a funny story about this one, plus a tip for how to remember the difference between the words.
One of my favorite songs by Jesse Winchester is "You Remember Me" from his 1977 album Nothin' but a Breeze. I'm going to throw copyright caution to the winds and reproduce the lyrics here, so I can tell the story:
They say no one should call on you
Unless he's your permission to
But me, I just came anyway
I couldn't care less what you say
Cause I know you from long before
You hid behind a stained-glass door
And walked around in your dressing gown
And looked an old friend up and down
But anyway, I thought I'd come give you a look
At where you're from
And let you know I still recall
What a child you are underneath it all
You remember me
The funny way I cry
The funny way I sit there
When someone says good-bye
The funny way I wind up lost
When someone sets me free
Why sure, you remember me.
Well, I won't take up your whole day
I've said 'bout all I have to say
I s'pose I'll be moving on
I know you'll be glad to see me gone
Tonight is our last night in town
So don't worry about me hanging around
Tomorrow night it's Calgary
And you will be good and rid of me
The first time I heard this song, a friend played the album while we were both in an altered state of consciousness not uncommon in the '70s (you know they say the '60s really mostly happened in the '70s). I misheard the lyrics and thought "Calgary" (a city in Canada) was "Calvary", and this plus the reference to the "stained glass door" led me to interpret the song as a peculiar yet thought-provoking story about an encounter between Jesus and an evasive soul. It was years before I realized what the real lyrics were, and that the song was probably about Winchester on tour meeting an old lover. A few years ago when I discovered his web site, I decided to write to him about my confusion, and he kindly answered that he wished he'd thought of it.
I've seen Winchester in concert twice, and I recommend him to you, although I don't think he performs a lot now; I suppose he mostly writes.
So here's how to remember the difference between CALvary and CAValry (you're on your own with Calgary): CAValry comes from a Latinate word for "horse" as per www.dict.org:
"F. cavalerie, fr. It. cavalleria. See Cavalier, and cf. chivalry."
In Spanish, the word for horse is "caballo" and "caballero" means knight / gentleman / cavalier (all of whom would ride horses). As you may know, historically the letters "B" and "V" have crossed paths and are very close in sound. Thus if you get confused or tongue-tied about Calvary and cavalry, as I often have, you can remember "cavalier" or "caballero", both of which have entered the English language, and recall that the V-B sound comes before the L sound: ergo, cavalry means horses and cavaliers and caballeros ride them.
Twice in the last few days I've heard the verb "process" (accent on the second syllable, proCESS), meaning to walk as in a procession. I'd never heard it before so first I thought it was a mistake, the second time, another word I don't know. My usual dictionaries say this verb is of course related to "proceed" but also that it's a back-formation from "procession." The verb "proceed" ought to be adequate for almost all meanings, but I heard it applied to events that were certainly processions, so maybe it fills a gap.
I didn't know that this phrase, "calling the shots," came from billiards. I thought it meant simply giving orders, but it's a little more complex. Players like me just hope to get a ball in a pocket, any pocket. Good players call out which ball they plan to put where, and how, thus calling the shot. The phrase probably also comes from target shooting; same idea, you call out where and what you're going to hit. The Word Detective said:
To 'call the shots' means, of course, to be in control, to make the decisions, to run the show and to be the one truly in charge, especially as opposed to being merely a nominal leader or figurehead. . . . According to the Oxford English Dictionary, 'calling the shots' seems to be a surprisingly recent phrase, having first appeared in print in the late 1960s, although it was probably in use as oral slang for years or even decades before someone thought to use it in print. An earlier phrase, 'to call one's shots,' meaning to announce exactly what one is going to do, apparently was current by the 1930s.
I've always thought of "calling the shots" in the former sense, i.e. being in charge, although since it seems reasonable that a person should call her own shots, I don't understand why we have an expression such as "Who's calling the shots here?" meaning "being in charge." Calling your own shots isn't the same as calling everyone else's shots. (Of course, lots of people feel that others are being presumptuous in calling their own shots, let alone another person's.)
So Fred and I had a bout of confusion because he thinks of it more in the latter sense, but with a twist: observing the game as a judge, not participating, remaining aloof.
I seldom think about sports so it's easy for me to misunderstand sports terms. No wonder human units have a hard time understanding each other. When Fred says, "So you're calling the shots," I think he's talking about power tripping, but he thinks he's talking about detached observation.
The movie The Passion of the Christ reminds us that the word "passion" comes from a Latin root meaning "to suffer." Today, in any context besides the Christian one, it usually refers to strong emotions of desire or anger rather than pain and suffering. It's easy to see how strong emotions are related to suffering, i.e. they cause suffering, but not so easy to see how the original meaning changed in this way.
I'm getting married April 17 and will take a couple of weeks off from Parvum Opus, so this is the last edition for three weeks, or even until early May if I'm feeling exceptionally disoriented. I'll share with you the poems I'm giving as wedding favors (again defying copyright):
Excerpts from The Essential Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks
New events said to me,
"Don't move.
A sublime generosity is
coming toward you."
And old love said, "Stay with me."
I said, "I will."
Why is there crackling and smoke?
Because the firewood and the flames
Are still talking.
"You are too dense. Go away!"
"You are too wavering. I have solid form."
In the blackness those two friends keep arguing.
The way of love is not
a subtle argument.
The door there is devastation.
Birds make great sky-circles
of their freedom.
How do they learn it?
They fall, and falling,
they're given wings.
"The Marriage I & II" by Denise Levertov
You have my
attention: which is
a tenderness, beyond
what I may say. And I have
your constancy to
something beyond myself.
The force of your commitment
charges us — we live
in the sweep of it, taking courage
one from the other.
I want to speak to you.
To whom else should I speak?
It is you who make
a world to speak of.
In your warmth the
fruits ripen — all the
apples and pears that grow
on the south wall of my
head. If you listen
it rains for them, then
they drink. If you
speak in response
the seeds
jump into the ground.
Speak or be silent: your silence
will speak to me.
Fred and Rhonda
April 17, 2004
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