sweded

The Swedish language is celebrated as a plastic and living entity and each year dozens of new words are championed by the Språkrådet, the national language council.

While many of these new words are for the nonce, topical, portmanteaux or English adoptions, may not be destined forever and ever in the country’s lexicon, it is laudable that such an institution takes an interest in bon mots. Among my favourites on the list released for 2012 (the story is no longer there but please visit the Swedish daily for similar ones) are Ogooglebar (something or someone who produces no hits in an internet search), Nomofob (anxiety due to being on-line and disconnected—from no mobile phone phobia), and Henifiera (to make a statement gender neutral, in reference to the re-introduction of the neuter pronoun hen to the Swedish language this past year, a grammatically correct way to use the ambiguous and incorrect they instead of committing to he or she). The year before, some of the inventive terms included: Säpojogg (a word to describe the gait of secret agents running in business suits after their wards), Åsiktstaliban (someone who won’t give other opinions consideration) and Flipperförälder (the exact opposite of helicopter-parenting, adventuresome and encouraging pin-ball parents).

force majeure

The BBC reports on a project underway along UK roads that aims to deploy privacy screens to erect around the scene of traffic accidents, so rubberneckers (Gaffern) in the oncoming lane will not slow to get a glimpse of the wreckage and response.

It’s a terrible outlet of human curiosity that makes such drapes possibly worth the try, and I have seen congestion and jams (Stau) spill over into the opposite lane on the Autobahn for no other reason than drivers braking to gawk. Such empathy and antipathy are encouraged all the time, with greater and lesser risks to others involved, but it really becomes quite a horrific snarl when car wrecks become a sideshow, without prospects for help and does not seem to encourage greater caution. I only hope the scrim does not delay response further or erode the last vestiges of driver sympathy—or replace safety and courtesy with a sense of self-preservation in this censorship. No journey should be filled with carnage but motorists should also not be allowed to strip the stomach-churning feelings of disappointment and regret for trying to get a peek. The screens, I don’t think, are able to speed up care on their side of the island, after all.

moveable type or three-penny opera

We had a very fine Christmas and got many wonderful and thoughtful gifts, including from my parents a rarity that has now been repatriated, so to speak, in this incredible Martin Luther translation of the Old and New Testaments in this 1784 edition from the publishing house and theological institute of Baron Canstein in Halle, in eastern Germany by Leipzig.

Though the idea of handling it at all made my fingers feel nubby and sebaceous, I was really astounded by how it’s aged, the feel of the leather binding and the wear of the pages that I didn’t know paper was capable of as I looked through the book’s chapters, dicovering, and at the family chronicle that lists dates for ancestors well before the publication and continues until the year 1998. This venerable institute for biblical scholarship greatly propagated publishing with refined printing (Stehsatz, block typesetting) techniques and sold some four million copies at a cost of just six Groschen a piece. This enterprise not only made the Bible and other books more affordable but also supported a neighbouring foundation, die Franckesche Stiftungen, which grew from an orphanage in Halle to an international social and educational network and the institute soon merged with the foundation.

Success led to the found- ations’ works being accorded a special status and freedom by the Prussian throne, almost like a city state with imperial immediacy and allowed operations to expand and charitable works to spread. In addition to establishing schools, libraries and nursing homes there and abroad, August Hermann Francke, the founder, also gave Europe one of the first public museums by putting his personal cabinet of curiosities (Wunderkammer) on display for the emendation of all visitors. We pass Halle (Saale) often and now I feel even more guilty about not taking the time to explore and see this wonder of organization and edification at work. What great present this is, and I am sure we will be visiting soon.

1up or der glückspilz

This vintage German New Year’s greeting card is just exuding good fortune with all the lucky paraphernalia featured, the greeter riding a pig jumping over a stand of mushrooms (Glückspilze) and armed with a horseshoe and four-leaved clovers. About the only talisman, at least in German traditions, not shown is a chimney sweep (Kaminkehrer). I am just as curious as to why this profession and not butcher, baker or candlestick maker is considered auspicious, but what strikes me first is how the chimney sweep comes bearing the same toadstool.  Deconstructing the symbols of luck is a bigger challenge than the turns and transpositions of holiday customs, and it is remarkable how many ways the inscrutable language of fortune infiltrates culture, yet remaining humble in its portrayal like this archetypal mushroom—everyone’s generic idea of what a mushroom should look like but having strange powers and a mysterious past. The Caterpillar from Alice’s adventures through the looking-glass holds court from such a tuffet, the Brothers Mario gain size and power from these bonuses, the Smurfs (les schtroumpfs, die Schlümpfe) lived in such mushroom houses—not to mention a staple in fairytales. A mushroom rendered in such a universally distinctive way can only be the fly agaric (Amanita muscaria), a poisonous and unpredictably psychotropic fungus, which surely caused some fretful parents to condemn the Smurfs (and their underwater counterparts, the Snorks) as promoting drug use, like the same concerned group thought that the Care Bears were a satanic gateway organization, and although the mushroom grows anywhere that pine trees grow, it was considered highly dangerous to ingest (although most drugs I think are unpredictable) and there is only evidence in use in the far eastern reaches of Russia, restricted to the shaman caste or religious purposes.
I wonder how such an exclusive yet ubiquitous substance was translated to some universally hoped for but escapingly rare commodity as providence. It is strange what can develope in abject isolation.  It’s no explanation, but the luckiness of the chimney sweep, who introduced industrial cancer and labour reform to the world besides, seem to operate under a similar logic—a reminder that one’s hearth and home had not burnt down, due to a poorly maintained fireplace, but still representing a kind of forbidden and untouchable skill, like for those who live in psychedelic houses.

dancing merrily in the new, old-fashioned way

Seasonal salutations to all our readers. Many thanks for visiting, and now Gladys the Matron Angel there in the background will play a Christmas time polka on her accordion for you.  Carols, originally, were not just meant to be belted out by a choir but also had a rhythm and a beat that one dance to.  Any respectable troupe of carollers will have a dancing fool designated.

super saturation or bit torrent

I know people near and far are unfortunately dealing with more devastating flooding, but it does come as a rather dramatic and menacing change from speculation over a white Christmas to having our little stream threatening to spill over the streets. All the heavy snows from the past week are melting fast and producing more water than the rivers and tributaries can handle, and though this is not the first or worst we’ve seen of it, it generally came in late winter and never this early.

The outlying fields then become an expansive inland sea as there’s too much water to soak up and the town’s landscape is transformed by this shimmering, temporary reflecting pool and little torrents turn before spring begins, but it all seems to be coming to soon and too frequently. It is strange to see the tolerance for the tipping point, the range that buffered imbalance, grow more and more narrow.  Improving environmental practices is always challenging because it is not just changed behaviours (good climate karma that may still not be enough to turn the tide) locally, though much evidence and hardship is a local matter—where ever local is, that makes change but rather globally, in attitude and deed, that can lessen negative effects and allow nature to heal.