Lascivious

Lascivious

26 August 2011

Lascivious. Now there is a word to ponder. Having used it freely in my life, my mis-use is yet another snafu I must live with all my days. Oye, there are worse things, yet this lil’ word forced me to reflect on what my grandmother must have thought when I was using it in the stories I told her. Only because I liked the word (and like it still) back then I would pepper it anywhere I could, because I thought it sounded so lovely. And it does. Say it out loud: Lascivious. Ahhh, the creamy curl of the mouth and tongue it takes just to say it is enchanting.

Unfortunately only today did I look it up in the dictionary, yes, a real hard-back, paper-turning dictionary, the OED at that. Now I am stumped. On this day I learned the innuendo that stellar word lascivious conveys, or rather what it is supposed to convey anyway. It just did not convey to me. Ooops but oh well, little did I know anything other than ‘oh what a pretty little word that is I can use and enjoy for emphasis.’ It seemed harmless enough for a pre-teen to use with her grandmother, as if it were a good substitute for a word like ‘fervor in great detail’ or something such as that. Now I know, or so am told, I was talking to my grandmother in terms she could have deemed way too saucy for such a ‘little young girl from B County’ as she used to call me.

Now I see how it drips sexiness just rolling off the tongue. Why have I not noticed this before now? Basically it carries LUST in its definition. How many times did I say something or someone was ‘lasciviously loveable’ or some-such to my grandmother I wonder? And what did she think I meant if and when I did? Oh well, she did not chide me for it. Maybe she thought it was just a ‘pretty word’ as did I? She knew I was innocent. Yet she knew the meaning of words as well as a child knows how you feel, no matter what you say.

Lascivious is pretty as words go, unlike say ‘putrid’ or ‘repugnant’ or ‘bile’ – you know, such words that do not roll off the tongue easily or beautifully?

Lust is not nearly as pretty a word as lascivious. So why does language make room for both I wonder? To trick me, that must by the reason. Yes, that must be it: to trick a silly unknowing teenager attempting to be eloquent.

Aahhh, the trickery of language has been my bane more than once. Words can be so strict. Perhaps that is why we need some words which are more subtle than others to suggest the same or similar meaning?

This American-English language is tripping me up constantly. As a youngster I actually said the phrase out loud, at the supper table of my very first boyfriend of all things, I said,

“Oh that was delicious. I am as full as a tick on a bull’s sack.”

I meant well, of course, praising this delicious meal Mrs. Penry had cooked. One could be no other than thankful for such delectable well-cooked meals, especially for me knowing they were as full of the love with which my grandmother cooked. Love true love cooking; that is our heritage. Yet alas, my comment: Talk about OYE! A hush ensued at the supper table followed by roars of laughter upon my ‘bull’s sack’ comment, which I had heard somewhere thinking it adornment, most likely.

“What is so funny?” I thought. Obviously I did not have a clue what a bull’s sack was, but you best believe I know now and will not forget it. Luckily, the people at that table are alive still to remind me: of fun, good meals, great family and the importance of laughter. Always accustomed to a good laugh at my expense, I am all for good-hearted laughter without malice, what ever the cause, so, it has been joy, this particular mis-use of language I picked up from my grandfather (somewhere?) inadvertently. We have enjoyed that language-snafu at my expense for more than 20 years. I am grateful for the memories…of childhood and all. Yet I cannot get my grandmother back to explain to her, I knew not what I said when I spoke of a boy and said “Lascivious” amid his description. Still something tells me, she knew, and she wanted me to discover for myself this one of many. She knew I loved words as much as she, and yes it took me a while but finally, dear grandmother o’ mine, I get it. And you know what? It is fine. It did not make me a young harlot.

It is not so strong as to defame a young Lady’s character in even the smallest of towns. So I am thankful she did not correct me or direct me. We must learn on our own the smallest of details. My brother told me upon having our child that I must learn to ‘choose my battles’ if I wanted to maintain a peaceful home as we rear/raise our child to become the best we can be. This has helped me in so many ways. I wonder how many things my parents and grandparents let slide, just to make sure I figured it out for myself, what is right and wrong? There are big issues and then there are simple things complex such as words. Simple words.

Words: they soothe, they heal, they can hurt and they peel. They peel back layers of understanding and, on the flip side include countless opportunities for misunderstanding. As for the concept of words and understanding: with the years I become more keenly aware, how the misunderstood words I use refine or undermine me.

--PPM