As a collector of words, I look for the unusual, the shocking, and sometimes, the longest.  The practice of using long words has earned a special defining word:  sesquipedalianism. — quite a long word of its own.   And who practices that:  Why, a sesquipedalian, of course.

Every grade school child could rattle off a long 34 letter word with pride:  Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious:  defined as: extraordinarily good, wonderful.”  (dictionary.com)  Or as Mary Poppins would say:  “a word to use when you have nothing else to say.”  But knowledge notwithstanding, I would never use that word in public, for fear that someone may ask me to spell it.   Indeed, long words feel good occasionally, as they roll off one’s tongue, but the truth be known, shorter words remain a lot easier to spell. 

Curiously, have you ever wished to know the longest English words appearing in a standard dictionary?  Well, page through one, and you will confirm the following:

The winner:  pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovvolcanoconious — a 45 letter mouthful defining a lung disease caused by the inhalation of very fine silica particles, specifically from a volcano.  (dictionary.com)   Most likely, it could be shortened drastically to “silicosis,” but sometimes one needs to take in the big picture.

A twenty percent shorter entry weighs in at 36 letters:  Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia.  Please note that we find some curious roots for bigness in the word, including “Hippo,” “monstro” and the now familiar, “sesquipedalia” to suggest its meaning; i. e., a fear (phobia) of long words.  When breaking down this word, I wonder whether the lexicographer left something on the cutting room floor, as the initial portion lops off “amus,” the end of hippopotamus, and substitutes an “o.”  I loathe taking short cuts in long words.    

Another interesting long word, a mere piker weighing in at 29 letters, is floccinaucinihilipilification, defines as:  the action or habit of estimating something as worthless.  (dictionary.com)  I suspect most of us could identify a string of shorter words with more descriptive power to describe something as worthless.  How about: rot. 

To be sure, none of the above long words show up often in everyday parlance, but some everyday words do qualify as long; for example:  “Incomprehensibilities” (21 Letters): defined as “impossible to comprehend or understand; and “uncharacteristically” (20 letters):, defined as in the manner of something that is not typical of a person or thing.” Both words remain in common use, but for some reason do not sound all that long.       

I could go on and divulge several more long words, but since this post is already too long, I will sign off with a short one:  “bye.”

For some odd reason, groups of living creatures are identified by unique collective nouns — a practice that began more than 500 years ago.  The believed source stems from “The Book of St Albans,” published in 1486, by Julia Barnes, a nun.  Not much is known of her, but the collective names were believed to in existence before she collected them.  (The Book of St Albans, wikipedia.)

We may be familiar with many, of course, like a “herd” of cattle, or a “pack” of dogs, but we would never say a herd of turtles, or a pack of cats, as they have a unique group name of their own: namely, a bale of turtles and a clowder of cats, the latter not rising to the level of a “pride” of lions, though also cats.  How many cats make a clowder?  Well, two is a pair, more is a clowder.  

As I found that amusing and strange, I looked up the common noun names for other groups, and uncovered other unusual and humorous names.  Though long, the below list is merely a sampling:   

Mammals:

Troop of apes;
Sleuth of bears:
Coalition of cheetahs;
Rag of colts;
Pace of donkeys;
Leash of foxes
Thunder of hippopotamuses
Cackle of hyenas
Prowl of jaguars
Leap of leopards
Labor of moles
Raft of otters
Embarrassment of pandas
Drift of pigs
Prickle of porcupines
Turmoil of porpoises
Gaze of raccoons
Crash of rhinoceroses
Harem of seals
Bed of sloths
Scurry of squirrels
Gam of whales.

Birds, Reptiles, Insects:

Clutch of chickens
Murder of crows
Charm of finches
Gaggle of geese
Scold of jays
Parliament of owls
Squabble of seagulls
Quiver of cobras
Slaughter of iguanas
Rhumba of rattlesnakes
Shiver of sharks
Fever of stingrays
Knot of toads
Kaleidoscope of butterflies
Intrusion of cockroaches
Rout of snails
Cluster of spiders

Not to worry, if you cannot remember the proper collective group name, just say “group of ‘whatever’,”  lest folks look at you strangely.   

As a child, my mother always cautioned me against “discussing religion or politics in polite company.”  I suppose raising those topics in impolite company was acceptable.  In other words, by polite company, she meant to avoid potential discord with people I did not know well, as they may hold different views than mine.  For a time, I followed her rules, but once I grew older — and supposingly “wiser,” I took on all comers, which did not always turn out too well.  Mom was right!.

My mother’s cautionary advice is even more relevant today.  A generation ago, an average American citizen’s views used to be somewhere near the center, either center left or center right, with sufficient overlap to permit reasonable discussion and meaningful compromise on contentious issues. Today, that center is gone.   Many folks hold fast to their positions and refuse to discuss or even consider variant views.  When one side disagrees with the other side, arguments and fights irrupt, marriages fail and friendships dissolve.  No political or religious issue can be raised, unless the people involved have similar, or at least tolerant views.  It’s an all or nothing environment.  What a shame!

An American journalist, Robert Quillen (1887—1948) approached these verboten topics in a much different way:

— “Discussion is an exchange of knowledge; an argument, an exchange of ignorance.” 

Polarized people display a lot of ignorance today, when they should be able to take a few deep breaths, and calmly discuss a potentially volatile issue, so they may better understand the alternative view.  When each side explains their view calmly, then each may accept some valid points to the other side’s view, and vice versa, reaching a place that achieves acceptance of some and rejection of others, with both sides ultimately walking away with more knowledge of the issue than before coming into the discussion.

The internet and social media platforms build groups who think alike, or else the group “unfriends” anyone who thinks differently.  So participation in “group think”  becomes more important  to individuals than seeking knowledge about another group’s views.  If you do not understand why someone thinks as they do, you gain knowledge by listening, even if you disagree.  

Oats: “a cereal crop, or its grains, used for making cookies or a food called oatmeal, or for feeding animals.”  (Collins English dictionary.)  Once considered a wild weed, oats have been around for centuries, becoming a source of nourishment, as well as of amusement, frequently referenced in sayings, movies and songs.

Oats entered the human diet as far back as 1000 b.c. and remains a popular breakfast cereal to start the day (Oat, wikipedia,) Nourishment may be scanty, but oats contain more soluble fiber than any other grain, and when mixed with water develops a thick, viscous substance which moves slowly through the body’s digestive system, removing harmful cholesterol along the way.  Hooray!  Let’s hear it for oats.       

As a kid, I sang a song — a fun little ditty, which made no sense to me:  

— “Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey.  A kiddley divey too, wouldn’t you.”  (“Mairzy Doats,” written and recorded in 1943, reaching number one on the pop charts in 1944. (Mairzy Doats, Wikipedia)  Of course, as I grew older, I realized that the lines were much simpler, but not as much fun, if one did not run the words together:

— “Mares eat oats, and does eat oats, and little lambs eat ivy.  A kid will eat ivy too, Wouldn’t you?” 

At least three “Oats” maxims have become commonplace in the American language:  

— “Sow you’re Oats,” meaning: to have many amorous relationships, particularly when young.  (Merriam-Webster Dictionary.)  As I grew older and bolder, the phrase “Sow Your Oats,” intrigued my interest, though wishing so did not quite reach the level of sowing so.   

—“Feel your oats,”  meaning “feeling lively and energetic.” (dictionary.com)  By that definition, I felt my oats on many occasions, as is the case for most young people.      

— “Off one’s oats,” meaning: “Disinclined to eat, having little appetite (dictionary.com)  As far back as I can remember, I never experienced a loss of appetite, so I was always “on” my oats, but no one ever says that.  

Oats took on an expansive forum.  The old western movies were popularly known as oat operas, or more commonly as “oaters.”  People spent many a leisure hour watching TV “oaters,” featured favorite cowboys and bandits — sowing or feeling their oats.