The Atlantic | October 2003 | Word Fugitives

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The Atlantic Monthly | October 2003

Word Fugitives

by Barbara Wallraff

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ne of the fugitives sought in May was a word for a fear of running over squirrels, and, naturally, many readers took the phobia tack. For instance, Larry Neckar, of Blue River, Wisconsin, wrote, "I'm a rural mail carrier in a heavily wooded area and am no stranger to various critters (woodchucks, raccoons, squirrels, skunks, and rabbits) acting out their death wishes beneath the wheels of my car. I would call the fear of experiencing the thud, crunch, and sight of the writhing animal in my rearview mirror flattenfaunaphobia."

Mike O'Neil, of Sunnyvale, California, wrote, "I personally detest squirrels, as they have the vile habit of digging up my tiny garden." He was one of several readers to propose roadentaphobia or roadentphobia; Robert Pollock, of Roseburg, Oregon, offered up the more elaborate dentarodentaphobia.

Judith Ghoneim, of Charlotte, North Carolina, suggested the Latinate sciuruscideaphobia. It's true that the word squirrel came to us by way of Latin, but other correspondents kept in mind that it didn't originate there. Alex Mattera, of Gloucester, Massachusetts, wrote, "Squirrel comes from the combination of the Greek words for 'shadow' and 'tail'"—and just for the heck of it he wrote an acrostic poem in honor of squirrels. It begins "Shadow and tail, together the name, / Quiet as nightfall, quick as a flame." Uh, thanks.

Two readers submitted terms that they considered to be properly formed from the Greek. Thomas B. Lemann, of New Orleans, sent in cataballoskiourophobia, accompanied by supporting photocopies of the pages from a Greek/English dictionary containing "squirrel" and "run over, knock down." Lena Patsidou, of Houston, submitted skiouroktonophobia, though she added, "The only places you would see squirrels in Greece are American movies and zoos!" When I consulted Samantha Schad, Ph.D., who is responsible for the classical component of etymologies in the Oxford English Dictionary, about these two coinages, she cautioned, "Obviously it is difficult to have a native speaker's feel for these things," but she went on to say that skiouroktonophobia seems likelier to fit the patterns of word formation "that one might expect in Greek."

Beth Kressel, of Highland Park, New Jersey, suggested squerrulousness, and John Ramos, of Duluth, Minnesota, squittishness. We're getting there! Top honors go to John Strasius, of Chicago, for his right-on-target coinage swervousness.

The other May fugitive was a word for realizing, when saying something to your child, that you sound like one of your parents. Alas, the great majority of respondents lost track of the fact that the word being sought was for the realization, rather than for just sounding like one's parent. Maybe the latter is the lexical gap that truly needs filling? Among the ideas submitted, some were gender-specific: Beth A. Norris, of Olathe, Kansas, wrote, "After having my first child, I quickly realized I had experienced a mamamorphosis—I had turned into my mother." Elizabeth Norton, of Columbus, Ohio, suggested the subtle mnemomic. A father-related coinage submitted by many people was patterfamilias; Graham Arnold, of Harbor City, California, suggested vox pop.

Other suggestions included nagatavism, from Jean-Phillipe Wispelaere, of Beaumont, Texas; parentriloquism, from Mike Reiss, of Los Angeles; and onomatoparentia, from Elliot Kriegsman, of New York City.

To earn more than mention on this page, however, you've got to supply the word that was requested. Several readers suggested parentnoia or variations on that theme. And a number of readers suggested twists on déjà vu—for instance, Kevin McGee, of Oshkosh, Wisconsin, with déjà vous, and Matt Haugh, of Salem, Oregon, with theyja you. Taking top honors for the earliest submission of the best twist is Randy Miller, of Washington, D.C., for déjà vieux.

Now Michael J. Connelly, of New York City, seeks "a word for a situation in which you refuse to accept that the occurrence of two events is merely coincidental but there is no evidence to link them together."

And Phil Miller, of Denver, writes, "What do you call the phenomenon wherein a mechanical or electronic device, having gone on the blink, resumes working perfectly while the repair person examines it, and then goes kaput again once you're out of reach of the person who can repair it?"

Send words that meet Michael Connelly's or Phil Miller's needs to Word Fugitives, The Atlantic Monthly, 77 North Washington Street, Boston, MA 02114, or visit the Word Fugitives page on our Web site, at www.theatlantic.com/fugitives. Submissions must be received by October 31. Use the same addresses to submit word fugitives that you'd like The Atlantic's help in finding. Letters become the property of Word Fugitives and may be edited.

Readers whose queries are published and those whose words are singled out for top honors will each receive, with our thanks, a selection of recent autographed books by Atlantic authors. The next installment's correspondents will be sent The Language Police, by Diane Ravitch; The Boy Who Loved Windows, by Patricia Stacey; and Monster of God, by David Quammen.

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