For a person born and reared in southeastern Louisiana, the aftermath of a hurricane is not just filled with the ironies of nature, as I discussed last week. But as we watch and listen and read news coverage of the storm and our recovery from it, we learn new words and new ways to refer to things. The irony here is that some of these terms either have unexpected origins or remind us of things from our pre-hurricane past. In the past month, I’ve picked up on some of these new words and new ways, and I attempt to uncover their origins in this week’s column.hunker- “Residents must hunker down for the storm.” I always thought the word “hunker” referred to a degree of “hunkness”: A guy was classified by girls as a “hunk,” a “hunker” (not quite a hunk but close), or simply “hunky” (having one or a few characteristics of a hunk.). Sort of like full professor, associate professor and assistant professor. Along these lines, “with tenure” means that you display hunkness for life and no longer have to worry about your looks. Admittedly, I have been a middling hunker all my life, despite a zero “hot” rating at ratemyprofessor.com. But, alas, I have earned tenure.
squall-The word, meaning “brief, sudden and violent windstorm,” is probably Scandinavian in origin, which makes me think of attractive blonde women.
computer models-This also makes me think of attractive, blonde women.
consensus computer model- Apparently, other people think of attractive, blonde women, too.
curfew-From the Old French cuevrefeu, this word translates as “to cover the fire” or, in other words, “There’s a fire, so get the hell off the street!” The word, however, sounds like “curlew,” the name given to any of a group of shorebirds, like southeastern Louisiana’s bec crosh, with a long, slender, downward-curving bill. Long and slender makes me think of attractive, blonde women.
swath-In general, the word means “the width of a scythe or mowing blade,” but the idiomatic “to cut a wide swath” means “a great commotion or display.” Interestingly, both of these apply to hurricane aftermath. What do you do in English class when trying to define a word when two definitions apply to its context? Call a government professor, because the Constitution protects you from such double jeopardy.
eyewall relocation-This is a self-explanatory meteorological term that actually derives from the jargon of professional boxing.
breach-“The levee has been breached.” Whenever I hear this, it reminds me of my childbirth, but that’s another story (and another spelling).
evacuee-the suffix “-ee” is used to indicate “recipient” and usually means trouble: escapee, absentee, amputee, mortgagee and, of course, levee. Students may recognize such terms that more closely apply to their situation in college: testee, tuitionee, probationee, tardee and dog-ate-my-assignment-ee, among others. Potable-Newscasters have been mispronouncing this word since before Hurricane Katrina. With the long “o” vowel sound, the word means “fit to drink.” With the short “o” vowel sound (and spelled “pottable”) the word means “to store in a pot,” like potted meat. Interestingly, no definitions of “pottable” read correspondingly “fit to eat.”
wreaked-The root word means “to inflict.” “Wreaked” should not be confused with “wrecked,” despite the fact that wrecking is sometimes a consequence of wreaking. And it should not be confused with “reeking,” although reeking is likewise sometimes a consequence of wreaking. Wry is this so confusing?
contraflow-Not in the dictionaries yet, this word derives from 1980’s El Salvador and the Arms-for-Hostages controversy.
aftermath-a great album by the Rolling Stones, containing the hit song “Under My Thumb,” which is probably what Mother Nature says each time she hurls a storm at us.
FEMA-This word shares the same root as “female,” which is generically defined as “indicating or having a part or receptacle designed to receive a complementary part.” This explains everything: The FEMA response has parts missing.
debris-This means “scattered remains of destruction,” as in “Storm-weary Tiger fans left a turf of emotional debris after the overtime loss to the Volunteers,” and “Storm-weary Saints fans left an artificial turf of emotional debris after the mismanaged-time loss to the Vikings.”
mucilage- “The refinery leakage has left an oily mucilage over the community.” Mucilage is a sticky substance sometimes derived from plants and used as glue. Once I rummaged through my grandmother’s attic and found some of her school supplies from the 1910 school year; I found a small, wide-bottomed bottle of mucilage with a rubber applicator cut at a slant. The mucilage didn’t work very well at gluing papers after all these years, but it sure tasted good-better than Elmer’s. Apparently, 1910 was a very good year.
doppler-“Doppler radar shows the eye of the hurricane…” “The Doppler Effect,” named for 19-century scientist Christian Doppler, refers to the apparent change in frequency of sound or light waves when the source and the observer are in relative motion-like the pitch of an approaching motorcycle from low to high as it nears you, and then back to low as it drives away. You experience the same phenomenon when you approach your professor to deliver your excuse for missing a test, and your voice gets high pitched. After it’s all over, your voice returns to normal.
feeder bands-I played bass guitar in a feeder band in high school. A feeder band is similar to an “opening act,” but, unlike an opening act, a feeder band’s main function is to open the beer cans for the opening act before and after the performance.
So as our world changes in the aftermath of two recent hurricanes, our minds expand as well, not only as we witness and accept the changes in our natural and personal surroundings but also as we hear and repeat new words and ways to say things. If only we could go back and retake the verbal sections of those standardized tests, how different our lives would be! Or, better said: If only we could go back and cut a swath through verbal sections of those standardized tests and breach the minimum standards, wreaking a higher composite score and leaving high school debris in our aftermaths, what hunks we would be!
John Doucet is associate professor of biological sciences, director of the University Honors program and an acclaimed Louisiana playwright.
