“DREAMT” AND OTHER WORD ODDITIES IN ENGLISH

There are two words in the English language that have all five vowels in order: "ABSTEMIOUS” and "FACETIOUS.”

“DREAMT” is the only English word that ends in the letters "MT".

There are only four words in the English language which end in "dous": TREMENDOUS,  HORRENDOUS, STUPENDOUS, and HAZARDOUS.

The words 'KAYAK’, 'LEVEL’, and 'RACECAR,’  are the same whether they are read left to right or right to left (palindromes).

"LOLLIPOP” is the longest word typed with your right hand.

No word in the English language rhymes with MONTH, ORANGE, PURPLE, or SILVER.

“STEWARDESSES” is the longest word typed with only the left hand.

TYPEWRITER is the longest word that can be made using the letters only on one row of the keyboard.

Compiled by John Witkowsky. Edited and rearranged by A Muhammad Ma`ruf.

BOOK TOSS

One of my chores today was to scan our family’s shelves for books that can be discarded or donated to the local elementary schools for their libraries and classrooms.

The best time to do this is while my two sons are at school because they want to keep all of their books – read and unread.

I sympathize. I have stacks of hardbacks that I have enjoyed as an adult and want to keep and paperbacks that I want to read and haven’t had time.

Weeding through my sons’ books is much easier than weeding through mine. At least, that’s what I thought.

Scanning the goofy titles and covers of books that have never been opened and most likely never will at our house, I tossed them easily into the give-away pile.

Others were classics. Should I pass Hugh Lofting’s “Dr. Dolittle” on to someone else? What about L. Frank Baum’s “The Wizard of Oz”? The kids were lukewarm on those stories, and we can easily check them out at the library. They went into the donation pile.

The books I struggled with were children’s books that my sons have definitely outgrown such as Dr. Seuss’ “The Cat in the Hat” rhymes, Gertrude Chandler Warner’s collection of “The Boxcar Children,” and Jonathan London’s adventures of “Froggy.” They were favorites at our house, read over and over. What about series of books including “The Hatchet” by Gary Paulsen, “Captain Underpants” by Dav Pilkey and “The Magic School Bus” by Joanna Cole? Although they were once favorites, the kids haven’t read them in years.

I opened a Ready Freddy book by Abby Klein, and on the inside cover my oldest son had printed as a kindergartener, “I see a red cat,” a reminder of the days when he was learning to read and write. I saved that book.

The final category included books that my sons have no attachment to now that they are older, but the stories bring back memories for me.

One such book is “Airline Pilots” by O.B. Gregory. I read that book to my oldest son every night for months at bedtime before he could read. Each evening I hoped he would choose another story. But his little fingers continued to reach for that hardcover book about aviation. I had the book memorized we read it so often. He is long finished with the book and would probably say “toss,” but my memories kept it in the “keep” pile.

I saved way more books than I decided to give away. Still, I put a stack of about 30 books to donate on the dining room table.

When the kids got home from school, they were curious.

“What’s this?” my oldest asked.

“Books to donate to the schools,” I answered.

A little later I passed the table again. The pile had dwindled down to three lone books. The rest had been put back on our home shelves.

-- cawk

CURSIVE WRITING

My son received mail from his grandmother the other day. She writes in cursive.

I can remember a time when I would have to sit down next to him on the sofa and read such a letter to him as he looked over my shoulder and asked, “What’s that word?”

But thanks to the local schools, my son can read cursive writing.

Other kids may not be so lucky.

What I’m reading online – which is not in cursive – is that many schools in 44 states across the nation have stopped teaching this “archaic” and “unnecessary” form of writing.

Apparently, it’s up to the local school districts to decide in New Jersey whether cursive writing is taught. Thankfully, my son’s school district sees its advantages.

I agree that learning to type in today’s world of technology is a mandatory skill that each student should learn. And it’s a skill that requires the use of both hands, not just two thumbs.

But cursive writing is important, too.

It’s a sign of maturity to be able to read and write in cursive.

When I was growing up, I wanted a library card.

“That’s a big responsibility,” my mother said.

“When can I get one?” I asked.

“When you can write your name in cursive,” she said. “That’s the rule.”

As kids, we were judged on our penmanship. Handwriting was an indicator of who we were as individuals – neat or sloppy. And we could identify each other by our handwriting. We knew who wrote with tiny letters and who wrote big. We all wanted a name that would take our pencils in loops beneath the faint lines of our notebook paper.

We admired the way the best writers in our class made the graceful curves of their capital letters. We worked hard to perfect our own writing. On our report cards, penmanship was listed as a primary subject along with language arts, math and science.

Granted, times have changed. But the value of cursive writing remains.

Signatures are written in cursive. The U.S. Constitution was written in cursive. Thank-you notes should be written in cursive.

Cursive has its advantages.

Practicing letters over and over helps students develop their motor skills and teaches them the importance of accuracy, patience and concentration.

Cursive writing is more formal and exudes a message of importance.

It’s faster than printing when taking notes in class or business meetings.

As a society, do we want a president who cannot read a post card from his grandmother because it is written in cursive writing? Do we want engineers, doctors, lawyers and scientists who can only print their knowledge?

If some schools teach the curriculum and others do not, cursive writing is going to separate the educated and the uneducated.

I asked my son, a fifth grader, if he thought cursive writing is important. He often has to print his spelling words and then write them in cursive. He got 5 points off recently because of a faulty letter.

“Yes, it’s important,” he said defiantly. “Do you think I can get a job if I don’t know how to read and write in cursive?”

I’m thankful my son can put this basic skill on his resume. Many kids in 44 states cannot. My son has an awesome signature, too -- and a library card.

-- cawk

BABY MISTAKES

One thing I like about writing is my ability to erase words that don’t fit.

I can type, “Lucy detected a faint smell when she entered the room.”

If a rotten potato is in the kitchen, I can erase the word “smell” and type, “Lucy detected a faint odor when she entered the room.”

Or if roses are on the counter, I can erase the word “odor” and type, “Lucy detected a faint fragrance when she entered the room.”

Eventually, I find the right word without having to correct myself in public.

If that were only possible in daily conversations!

This week, I sat in the middle school guidance counselor’s office with my son to register him for high school. When the counselor joined us, she didn’t recognize me.

“We have met before,” I told her during the introduction. “Our babies played baseball on the same team last year.”

As soon as the word “babies” flew out of my mouth, I wanted to backspace and change the noun to “children,” “boys,” “sons” – any term but “babies.”

The word does not come close to describing the young men we watched defend bases and score runs on the baseball diamond last spring.

But the conversation couldn’t be rewritten.

The word hung in the air like an unpleasant scent as my “baby” signed up for classes in economics, physics, literature and foreign language.

When we left the guidance office, my son said, “Babies? Really, Mom?”

As I watched him head down the school hallway back to class, the word choice still stung.

My son’s voice has changed. He’s taller than me. He wears a size 13 shoe. He’s “a teen,” “a young man,” “a strong athlete.”

All this is true. But he’s still my baby.

-- cawk