Quirky Verbs Coming from Nouns

Using words is an evolving process, or I should say it's evolutionary. Changing verbs to nouns and back to verbs again can be hilarious, yet many of us say the newly invented nouns without breaking into a smile.

Clearance is such a word. Clearance means the act of clearing. We went looking for some lawn chairs in a store last week. The clerk told us, "We don't have any more lawn chairs. We clearanced them all out."

As we all know, language is not right or wrong, and dictionaries reflect usage.
The word doesn't appear in Merriam-Webster Dictionary. At least, I can't find it, but I found this definition written back in 2008:

Clearancing defined in the Urban Dictionary
The act of shopping at retail stores with the sole purpose of finding items that have been greatly discounted by being put on clearance sale. Some buyers set clearly defined rules for clearancing, such as only buying items that are at least 50% - 75% off the original retail price. While not always the case, it's not uncommon for someone clearancing to buy items they don't really need, but will purchase because it is "such a great deal".

"You won't believe the great deal I found while clearancing today - a $30 purse for only $7.50!"

"I know I don't have a fish, but I just couldn't pass up the .25 cent fish food I found while clearancing today."

"My eBay store is filled with clothes I've picked while clearancing."

Written by brandiev December 27, 2008.

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Provisioning (Provision as a verb) appears in Merriam-Webster. It means supplying provisions.
Why not just say providing? Provision seems more specific.

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Gifting has been in use for centuries. Why not simply say giving? I don't know the answer, but in these matters I'm not very gifted.

In 1735 in New Hampshire an epidemic killed most of the children.

In 1735 in New Hampshire, an epidemic swept through the town of Kensington and killed most of the children.

It’s too horrible to imagine—all the children in families killed by a mysterious plague that formed a throat membrane, which did not allow the little ones to swallow and eventually kept them from breathing

The epidemic of diphtheria was called "throat distemper" or "putrid throat." (Merchant)

*“The Rev. Roland Sawyer wrote of the 1735 epidemic in his history of Kensington. ‘Between June 1 and Dec. 1, 1735, there died over 40 children under 10 years of age. Seven families lost 27 children, everyone dying who was taken sick. The first 8 months of 1736 we lost near 40 more, or near 90 the first 15 months of the plague.’ By 1738 so many Kensington children succumbed to diphtheria ‘there were few children left to die.’” (Merchant)

Within a year and two months, 1,200 people died in fifteen New Hampshire settlements. (Merchant)

Relentless, the plague returned again and again to continue to kill the remaining children and their parents. This story is a morbid page in history. For us today, it can serve as a warning. Diphtheria has not disappeared from the face of the earth. It occurs in other countries, and it can find its way innocently into the United States via asymptomatic carriers.

Prevention is simple: immunization for children and boosters for adults.

Source:

Dean Merchant,  History in Focus: Diphtheria Epidemic,  Hampton Union, Friday, June 27, 2008. http://www.seacoastonline.com/article/20080627/LIFE/806270310

First and Second Centuries AD: Aretaeus knew about diphtheria.

In the late first century and early second century AD, Dr. Aretaeus knew about diphtheria, as well as pleurisy, tetanus, pneumonia, asthma, epilepsy, psychiatric disorders, diabetes, and other diseases. Aretaeus (aka Aristaeus) from Cappadocia, Turkey, was a Greek Physician who practiced in Rome and Alexandria. It is thought that he moved from Cappadocia, Turkey, to Alexandria, Egypt, about the time Nero died. Little is known about his personal life, but historians agree that he is one of the most brilliant ancient physicians.

He didn’t know what caused diphtheria, which he called Syriac or Egyptian ulcers (because it was widespread in Syria and Egypt), but he made a practice of describing what he observed. Diphtheria, he noticed, occurred most often, but not always, in children. He described the false membranes in victims and stated that surgical interference was “secure.”  (One wonders if he performed tracheotomies and laryngectomies with success.)   

Aretaeus classified diphtheria in a group of ailments called “Uvula’s Diseases.’ He compared false membranes to batwings. If the covering was deep, he called it eschara, meaning a dry scab.

Here’s a quotation of his description:

“Around it, the area is inflammatory, red, and painful. The presence of smaller scattered reddish rashes at the beginning causes wide ulcers after their merging. In case of the disease spreading towards the opening of the mouth cavity, it reaches the uvula and cuts it out. The disease continues its spread to the tongue, gums, and towards mouth corners, and even the teeth get blackish, sensitive and tremble. The inflammation reaches the neck and then the sufferer has only a few days before he dies by inflammation, fever, bad breath, and anorexia.”

The disease caused diphtheritic laryngitis, which he described as follows: “The sufferers breathe heavily and deeply as they need cool air to sustain fever, while expiration is light, and hoarseness or voice absence is present. The symptoms worsen, and the patients suffer until they fall down and die.”

This acute disease was a medical emergency.  His treatments included “enemas, phlebotomy, compresses, poultices, re-heating, suction cups and surgery.” He subscribed to the theory of the humors. Phlebotomy from a wide opening at the elbow and relentless enemas would, in his opinion, save victims of diphtheria from drowning. He had bandages applied on the feet, ankles, knees, wrists, elbows and arms. As death approached, he required more incisions and more suction cups.

Medicines were sumac, Acacia arabica, parasites from the roots of rockrose, earth from exotic locations, unripe grapes,  myrrh, pomegranate, dates, wild figs, alum, honey, oak bark, copper, zinc, and rhubarb. Using reeds, feathers, or tubes, he poured concoctions on the uvula.

To soften the diphtheritic membrane, he instructed his assistants to apply a caustic formula, which corroded the uvula and inflamed the throat until swallowing was impossible. The patients would die of hunger.

The use of alum proved to be valuable. Alum gargles dissolved the false membrane. This method was used for centuries.  His writings provide sophisticated knowledge about diphtheria. Even in the present day, doctors refer to his findings and reflections.

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Sources:

Gregory Tsoucalas, "Aretaeus of Cappodocia. Views on Diphtheria"

http://www.infezmed.it/media/journal/Vol_20_4_2012_14.pdf

Marcos Sampaolo, "Aretaeus of Cappadocia, Greek Physician"    https://www.britannica.com/biography/Aretaeus-of-Cappadocia

Roswell Park, An Epitome of the History  of Medicine, 1897.  Kindle Version. Project Gutenberg.

1845: William Bent had diphtheria, and his wife Mistanta saved his life.

Diphtheria is a killer. Without appropriate intervention, people who contract diphtheria die from strangling. An incredible story about this dread disease involves William Bent.

Who was William Bent? In Colorado history, he is revered as a hero. William Bent (1809-1869) began beaver trapping when he was fifteen on the Arkansas river. He became a mediator between the white American settlers and the Native Americans. He established a trading fort, Bent’s Fort, in eastern Colorado on the Santa Fé Trail. Eventually 100 people worked for him at the fort. In 1835 he married Mistanta, Owl Woman, the beautiful and gifted daughter of White Thunder, a Cheyenne medicine man and chief. Soon William Bent became a member of the Cheyenne tribe, the father of four children, and a sub-chief.

 Having survived smallpox in the 1830’s, William had diphtheria in the 1840’s, probably 1845. He couldn’t talk or swallow. Breathing must have been difficult. Mistanta used a quill to save his life.  She jabbed it into William’s swollen throat. Evidently the tube traveled behind the larynx and arrived at the esophagus. She filled her mouth with broth and blew it into the tube.

Then she called a medicine man named One Eye, who examined William’s throat by depressing his tongue with a spoon handle. One Eye stepped outside and collected sandburs (from weeds native to the west and growing in sand) which had small barbs covering them. He fashioned a thread from a sinew (animal tendon) and tied a knot in one end. After poking a hole through the sandbur, he threaded the tendon into it and covered the bur with bone marrow fat.

The medicine man inserted the greasy ball into William’s throat, which was covered by the membrane of caused by diphtheria. The marrow fat liquified, and One Eye pulled the bur out. Part of the dry hard membrane broke loose and came out. One Eye repeated the process until all the matter was removed. Not long afterwards, William Bent could eat soup.

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The above article is the original and intellectual property of Mary Lou Cheatham. Use of any part of this document is not permitted without expressed written consent of the author, and it may not be copied without her written consent.

Sources:

(For reference. No material is quoted.)

Dary, David.  Frontier Medicine (Vintage International). Kindle Edition. Vintage, 2008.

King, Judy. "William Bent." Colorado Encyclopedia, 

http://coloradoencyclopedia.org

Peng, Jamie. "Mistanta (Owl Woman)." Colorado Encyclopedia, http://coloradoencyclopedia.org/article/mistanta-owl-woman.

William Bent https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Bent

"Look at the Lights"

Crossing the Bar

Sunset at Ransom Canyon 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson 

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.

(from Wikipedia)

Most of us hope our earthly day—the span of life—to be long, but for some it is shorter than we can hope to understand. My brother, Bobby Joe Gregg, died at 20 months of age from diphtheria. I am sad for myself because I never knew him. I look forward to meeting him on the other side of life.

I cannot stop wondering whether he will be a toddler or whether he will be an adult. Since marriage as we know on earth does not exist in heaven, I cannot imagine that my parents are taking care of him. It seems that the children have a special place near the Almighty God’s throne. Bobby Joe arrived before our parents, and he was already settled in.

When he left this earth, my mother, who was twenty-three, stood over his hospital bed. She told me many times about his death. At the instant he died, she saw beams of light extending from his eyes to the ceiling. About that time the nurse came into the room.

Mother told the nurse, “I believe he’s gone.”

“How do you know?”

“Look at the lights.”

“Oh,” the nurse whispered as she stood in awe.

The nurse’s lack of surprise led my mother to think the hospital staff had experienced similar things before. Surely God’s angels tenderly carried the toddler to his new home, placed a loving hand on Mother’s shoulder, and helped the nurse do her work.

What joy there must be in heaven for him, for her, for his father, and for his older brother! Together and with their other loved ones who have left this earth, they remain in the presence of the Father in heaven.

Diptheria, a Source of Grief in Our Family

Robert and Myrtle Gregg

My parents, Myrtle and John Robert Gregg, celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary in 1974. They had six children, and five of them lived into their mature years. One child, Bobby Joe, died of diphtheria before he was two years old. Since our pictures were destroyed in a house fire in 1960, we have almost no pictures of Bobby Joe. Here is one little view of him. 

We had a  photo of him taken a few months  before his death. My parents had taken it somewhere and had it colorized. The background was ethereal pastels. They kept that picture in their bedroom on the wall above the fireplace. I don't think they ever stopped grieving for Bobby Joe, and when the house burned Mother cried until she was sick because she lost that picture. 

Dad told me he was the smartest baby they had. Dad used to make certain mannerisms and Bobby Joe would imitate him. None of the rest of us ever held our mouths that way. (Ironically, my daughter Christie has this mannerism, even though she never saw anyone make it. My dad passed away not long after Christie was born.)

Bobby Joe's hair was a crown of soft curls, and my parents assured us he was better looking than the rest of us. I wonder what he would have done in his adult life.

I still have something left of Bobby Joe: the memories of the stories my parents told and the picture to the left. He's in there. This is the Riley family reunion photograph, which I believe was taken in the summer of 1930. Mother and Dad are standing slightly to the right of the center. Mother is holding baby Bobby Joe, and John is standing on the front row slightly to the right.

Someone has written some names on the photograph. My beloved Riley cousin, Barbara Riley Martin, and I have been trying to analyze the photo and put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Using a cropping tool, I clipped the Greggs from the Riley reunion picture. My father is on the top row, my mother is standing in front of him and holding the baby, and John is standing in front. 

Bobby Joe died from diphtheria when he was twenty months of age. John, who was better known as Edwin until he joined the Marines, also suffered from diphtheria. Mother saved his life.   

An artist is enhancing this picture, and I will show it to you when he finishes.