Category Archives: A words

Accent

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Accent: (n.) a distinctive mode of pronunciation of a language, especially one associated with a particular nation, locality or social class

Anyone who spends any time whatsoever in theater realizes that it is often a bigoted representation of society’s perception of all races and nationalities.

What I mean by that statement is that if you’re playing a part in a production and your director wants you to convey a certain immediate energy to the audience, he will often ask you to consider using an accent to trigger an image or attitude in the mind of the hearer.

Could anything be more prejudiced? Yet it is standard practice–and an admission that we human beings often draw conclusions based on what we hear and therefore perceive.

Let me give you an example:

Let’s say you’re playing the part of a snobby, high-falutin’; upper-class woman. The suggestion may be made to give her a British accent–therefore concluding that all Brits are really pricks.

Are you gonna play a boxer in the movie? Then you probably should have a New Jersey accent–“Joisey.”

Let me run a few more:

  • Mafia? Italian, of course.
  • A slick gigolo lover? French.
  • A bigoted ignoramus? A Southern Dixie accent.
  • How about a surfer? A California Valley-girl accent.
  • What if the part demands you be a spy? I would suggest a Russian accent.
  • A karate champion? Japanese.
  • How about a dictator? Gotta be German.

Since it is so obvious that we equate certain attributes to accents, it might be a good idea to be careful how you round your r’s and punch your syllables.

Because as much as we may discount the value of prejudice, it was here when we arrived–and it will stand over our graves.

Accelerant

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Accelerant: 1. (n.) a substance used to aid the spread of fire.

There are really only two things you can do with fire. You can douse it or you can spread it.

Funny thing about fire is that sometimes it’s a really welcome warming, and other times it can be quite destructive.

So it’s good to have an accelerant around, like gasoline, when you’re trying to get your fire going.  For instance, anybody who’s ever barbecued knows that charcoal lighter is one of your better friends.

And then there are times when fire gets started and you would like to inhibit it from burning down your house. Then the presence of water is suddenly essential.

Here’s what I think–somewhere along the line in our country, we have gotten these two ingredients mixed up. We often pour gasoline on fires that should be put out and we douse pleasant fires with water, which would be ideal for toasting our marshmallows.

I don’t know how this happened. I think some folks just think fire is bad. They think anyone who gets excited, passionate or enthusiastic in any shape or form needs to be hosed down.

Then there are other folks who worship fire and believe the more ablaze the world becomes with controversy, anger and frustration, the better the outcome. I think we need a lesson in utilizing these two elements. Let me make a list:

1. When you see young human beings being creative, even if you don’t understand their particular rendition of talent and ability, bring gasoline, not water.

2. When you’re watching television and two people are arguing, with no intention of listening to each other, throw a bucket of water on it.

3. If you’re in church and everybody’s being quiet because they’re afraid of God, sprinkle some gas and light a match.

4. If you’re in a learning situation and some loudmouth is trying to take over the room and infuse ridiculous ideas into the surrounding hearers instead of freshening them with generosity of spirit, turn the squirt gun on him.

5. If you’re listening to a candidate talk about our country and all you hear is complaining, frustration and promotion of his political party, please apply H2O.

6. But if your four-year-old grandson is asking a bunch of questions about life and is thirsty for knowledge, light the fire.

We could sure use an accelerant in this day and age–to burn off stupidity and welcome a planting of a whole new forest of ideas.

We also might want to back up a water truck to some existing flames which are doing nothing but destroying beauty, and see if we can’t save the landscape.

Water or gasoline?

I do believe that all of us will eventually be evaluated by the next generation on how well we implemented each resource.

Accelerando

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Accelerando: (adj. & adv.): with a gradual increase of speed (used chiefly as a musical direction)

It was another example of one of those times when I overstepped my boundaries and in the process, slipped on my own crap.

I wrote a musical piece for the piano and was blessed that a small symphony orchestra agreed to play it in one of their concerts. It helped that I was good friends with the conductor. She thought it would be excellent if I performed the piano part with the symphony, giving it more focus.

Never considering my limitations on the magical eighty-eight keys, I quickly agreed, and gave a passive effort of rehearsal.  It was passive because I had enough arrogance to believe that I was a fairly decent pianist, and also regarded myself as being acquainted with this particular music since I had written it.

When I arrived at the first rehearsal with the orchestra, it became quickly obvious that I was ill-prepared to be anywhere NEAR the musical instrument  provided to make the melody, especially when I came to the end of the concerto. Because I was unable to the play music in the correct timing, I slowed them up, which prompted a flutist near the conductor to raise his hand and ask, “Is this passage going to be rubato?”

My conductor friend shook her head without verbally responding.

He persisted. “So — should we anticipate an accelerando?”

She frowned and once again shook her head.

It was very embarrassing–similar to being in a foreign country, and in a clumsy way ordering off the menu, only to notice that the waiter has gone back to the cook to chat in their common language and laugh at your selection.

Later on, my conductor friend explained that the flute player was asking if my playing was going to be rubato, which meant purposely slowed up by my own choice, or if there was some way she could build a fire under me to create an accelerando ( in other words, play it right).

I discovered that day that even in the world of classical music, there is still language available that says, “Hustle up your butt!”

The fact that it’s being said in Italian only makes it a bit more elegant.

It also makes it a trifle more aggravating.

 

Accede

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Accede:  (n.): 1. assent or agree to a demand, request or treaty 2. assume an office or position

I think I’ve got it figured out.

If we ever want to have a good President of the United States, we must track down the best candidate, hunt him or her as they try to escape the responsibility, place this magical individual in a cage, throw him or her into the White House and refuse to feed the captive or allow him or her to bathe until they agree to govern us.

As long as we are VOTING for people who actually think they ARE worthy to be the leaders of the free world and the controllers of the most destructive forces ever conceived by mankind, we will end up with a cavalcade of clowns who are trying to climb out of the same car to race across the tarmac to Air Force One.

The only truly acceptable profile of anyone looking at the job of President of the United States–to accede to that office–would be to accede that this particular position should not be occupied by a mere mortal.

To me, it would be similar to discovering that Brad Pitt had left Angelina Jolie and that I was the logical candidate to replace him in her life by purchasing an air ticket to her city of residence, toting a dozen red roses and an engagement ring. You see, there are so many presumptions in that particular thought that it would be difficult to dissect it without it falling apart in your hands.

Maybe I am too humbled by everything.

  • Because I have not always owned brand new cars, every time I put my key in the ignition of my current vehicle, I am delighted nearly to the point of tears when it starts.
  • I am humbled to be a father–especially on those occasions when my children’s successes have certainly exceeded my efforts.
  • I am humbled when I stand in front of an audience and share my thoughts. Why should they care? Why should they listen?

Sometimes the best person for the job is the reluctant one, who’s trying to slip out the door before the voting begins.

But in this craziness of assumed democracy, how can we ever get the best man or woman for the job–when the sound of chest-thumping overwhelms the voice of reason?

Acari

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acari:  (n.): a large order or subclass of small arachnids that comprises the mites and ticks. They are distinguished by an apparent lack of body divisions.

I’ve had some interesting jobs in my life.

I once tried to sell encyclopedias door-to-door until I was pulled over by a policeman because the last house I went to insisted I came through their door without permission. I didn’t actually do that but, it’s hard to convince a policeman of your truthfulness when you’re an encyclopedia salesman.

I once delivered blood samples to a laboratory until one day I ran out of money to buy dry ice, and tried to get to the lab very quickly without it, and discovered the samples don’t work as well at room temperature.

I played Santa Claus, which was quite fun except for the fact that I got hungry on the job and attempted to eat the candy canes, inserting them into my mouth past my synthetic beard, only to create a hairy mess mingled in my spittle.

But today I would say that the worst job in the world would be trying to be the public relations agent for the acari. You would be at a tremendous disadvantage because most folks have no favorable rating for ticks and mites. Their percentage of appreciation would rank down with Congressmen and Senators.

Can you imagine, if that were the only job available? If it was YOUR responsibility to develop a slogan?

“Don’t be ticked off–you mite enjoy them.”

Even though that has a bit of cleverness, after the initial warmth from the hearer, the vision of nibbling ticks and mites would take over and you are back to square one.

I thought maybe you could do something like they did with Mr. Peanut–maybe a tick with a top hat and cane, doing a two-step with a mite. Underneath would be the slogan: “Yeah … but they dance!”

You see what I mean?

So as you start off your day and you’re on your way to your position of responsibility, keep in mind, there ARE jobs worse than others.

For instance, you could have the job of writing a 250-word essay of relevance … on the acari.

Acapulco

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acapulco: a port and resort in southern Mexico on the Pacific coast; pop. 592,290, full name Acapulco de Juarez.

Since I don’t drink, gamble, have a beautiful body like a Greek god or enjoy dancing in the night life of an exotic resort, places like Acapulco never really drew my attention nor any of my interest. The things that would be of value to me, like the sunshine, water and some good Mexican food, are really available in my neighborhood.

It’s not that I am a curmudgeon who hates to be around crowds of people because I think they are dark and evil or different and weird. It’s that early on I discovered my own level of contentment and toleration for variation–and I love to stay within those parameters lest I find myself spending a lot of money doing things I don’t really want to do anyway, pretending they are the coolest thing that’s ever happened.

I don’t like to be overwhelmed by entertainment. So for me, going to a carnival which is set up in a shopping center parking lot, eating a corn dog, and trying to knock over a few milk bottles with a light-weight ball as I watch children use their tickets to ride on a rickety roller coaster is just as much fun as going to Disney World.

You see, I think there’s a danger in over-stunning our senses with innumerable sources of stimulation all at the same time, without having the opportunity to take in individual bonuses because we are so inundated.

I know I am alone in this.

But I’ve never wanted to be jaded by convincing myself that the only way I can have fun and sun is by going to Acapulco instead of stepping into my back yard with a pitcher of iced tea, a good book and some great music to listen to on a wonderfully sun-drenched afternoon.

It’s not that I’m simple–it’s just that I have five senses and I really don’t want to jam them up, so that they’re running around colliding into each other, vying for attention.

Stop for a moment and taste the iced tea. U-m-m-m. It’s good. Now, put your head back and let the sun warm your face. Excellent.

The one time I found myself at a resort like Acapulco I couldn’t get a moment’s rest or a chance for an idea to stretch its legs, because all the young cabana people were constantly walking up and asking me if I wanted to go deep-sea fishing, sight-seeing, hand-gliding or rollerblading.

I felt bad when I told them “absolutely not.” I wondered if they lost commission because I appeared to be out of commission. After that I decided to avoid such fruitless journeys, and instead, chose to tantalize my sense one at a time.

So you may go to Acapulco and you can even send me pictures.

I think I will just stop off at Taco Bell, pick up a couple burritos, sit in the sun, jot some notes down on a piece of paper, and after I become hot enough, dip the better parts of my body in some cool water.

That’s what I call … a vacation.

A cappella

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

A cappella: (adj. or adv.) {with regard to choral music} without instrumental accompaniment.

I was sixteen years old and had a musical group. We thought we were great, which is the necessary profile to maintaining the immaturity of being sixteen years of age. We had recently won a talent contest at our school, so we were over-pumped with our abilities and found other people’s instruction repugnant.

A gentleman asked us if we would like to record the song we had sung at the talent contest for his local radio station, to be played the following Sunday for the vast “tens of listeners” tuning in.

Of course, we agreed, fully aware of how fortunate this man was to have such a talented group of young people coming in to his little station to share their unique abilities. We arrived at the studio and found that there was no piano. We required one, so it seemed like we were stumped, with no recourse. The radio station owner ran from the room and quickly returned, holding in his hand–a pitch-pipe.

He said, “Why don’t you sing it a cappella, and I’ll give you the note to start on, and we can record it?”

Well, we had never sung our song without accompaniment, but after all, being the best singers in Delaware County, it seemed like something we could take in stride and accomplish with no difficulty whatsoever.

So he blew a C on his pitch-pipe and we began to sing, as he recorded. We struggled a bit. None of us realized how dependent we were on the strands flowing from the keyboard for our sense of self-confidence. Yet we persevered.

When we reached the end of the song, I looked over and noticed that our recording engineer had a grimace on his face. He paused and said, “Would you like to try that again?”

Fully inflated with arrogance, I replied, “Why? It sounded good to me.”

So he blew the pitch-pipe and played back the last note we sang, and explained that we had fallen a full tone in the process of singing our song. Still fueled with immaturity and impudence, I said, “What difference does it make–as long as we ended up together?”

I added, “Perhaps your pitch-pipe is broken.”

This last assertion was quickly disproven when he played back the entire recording and it became obvious where we lost our way. Yet because we were young, impetuous and just damned lazy, we refused to record it again, insisting that “it sounded fine.”

Faithful to his word, he played our a cappella version the following Sunday morning on the radio, and amazingly enough, no one commented to us about it–good or bad.

That was the day that I gained great respect for singing a cappella–and also for the value of honoring the pitch.

In all facets of life, if you don’t stay in key, you will end up with a whole lot of sour notes.

Acalculia

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acalculia: {n.} loss of the ability to perform simple arithmetic calculations, typically resulting from disease or injury of the parietal lobe of the brain.

Bob, Frank and I decided to go out for an evening.

The four of us came to the quick conclusion that if we left at seven o’clock and closed the evening out at twelve, we could have six hours of enjoyment.

You might think it odd, but we began the excursion by picking up a dozen doughnuts and splitting them evenly among the four of us–five each.

We went out and bought a pizza, which cost twenty dollars, and split it, which remarkably, was only six dollars a person.

At the end of the night, we realized we should reimburse the gas in Bob’s car, so we bought gasoline at $3.48 a gallon, putting ten dollars in the tank, giving us seven gallons.

We had such a good time that we decided to do it every week. So it was concluded that five days from that time, we would get together again, and Bob, Frank and I–all four of us–would go out from seven to twelve (for six hours), probably buying that dozen doughnuts, granting us five each, to spend no more than ten dollars of gas, which would provide seven gallons.

Everything seemed to be going along real well until the second week, when for some inexplicable reason, we found ourselves arguing … because things just didn’t add up.

 

Acajou

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acajou: {n.} 1. the wood of certain tropical timber-yielding trees, esp. mahogany 2. another term for cashew.

I’m not so sure I could identify mahogany if I saw it. Some sort of dark wood, normally associated with affluence. I don’t know why.

I DO know what cashews are.

Now most people would not think that cashews and mahogany have a whole lot in common, although I must admit, it would be wonderful to have a coffee table made out of cashews, offering a practical snack on the spot. But I don’t think it would be possible to break mahogany into little chunks, placing it into tin cans to offer as a part of a meal which began with soup and ended with nuts.

But since they share a common name the message that rings through to me is that we are much better off in life looking for similarities than we are focusing on differences.

In other words, if I stand in front of a group of people and say, “Mahogany and cashews are really different, aren’t they?” everybody would agree and soon we would be onto other topics with very little enlightenment, and also with me not coming across as very creative or intuitive.

But if’ I am able to find union between mahogany and cashews, then I have done something of quality, linking my world together instead of emphasizing the chasms between ideas.

  • How is a Republican like a Democrat?
  • How is a liberal like a conservative?
  • How is a Christian like a worldly person?
  • How is a woman like a man?

These are the kinds of questions that bring us together instead of tearing us apart.

Mahogany is considered to be a very expensive and durable wood. Cashews are the King of the Nuts, and even though the title does not sound particularly honorable, it does carry its own weight and flavor. So as I discover that mahogany and cashews do share the same name in this particular dictionary definition, I feel juiced up by the project of finding the similarities in their characters.

You can feel free to divide your world into smaller and smaller boxes until you’ve littered your closet with a whole series of unmarked packages.

Not me. I want to throw away the boxes and see if this thing we call human passage isn’t just a puzzle, trying to fit the pieces together … instead of tearing them apart.

Acadia

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acadia: a former French colony established in 1604 in the territory that now forms Nova Scotia in Canada. Contested by France and Britain, it was ceded to Britain in 1763, and French Acadians were deported to other parts of North America, especially Louisiana.

There is so much in that definition of Acadia which is bizarre and imbalanced–but still–quite human.

Let’s start out by saying that the Acadians were living in Nova Scotia, which translated, means New Scotland. So already they were presumptuously dwelling under the false concept that they were still in Scotland–just opening a branch. No one in Scotland wanted them. That’s why they were starting from scratch.

So then the arriving British decide THEY don’t like them. They send them to the great trash heap of all English rejects–America. These Acadians go from one community to another, and finally settle in the sediment of the Mississippi Delta–in Louisiana. The only other place left for them to go was the Gulf of Mexico, and it’s just difficult to build a cabin there.

To the credit of these former New Scotland folk, they decide not to be so picky and intermarried with the Louisiana natives, some of them being Creole. They blend, they blur, they mingle, they mix–until one day we end up with Cajuns.

And these Cajuns, who were rejected by Scotland, the British and all sorts of little, prissy towns all the way down the Mississippi River, ended up taking the best of their surroundings and creating one of the more colorful cultures on the face of the earth.

Without them we have no gumbo, jambalaya, and it would be questionable if New Orleans would be so deliciously flamboyant.

So just as my ancestors were rejected from Germany and landed on the shores of the New World, looking for a place to breathe and live free of condemnation, we need to understand that everybody who lives in America was once a reject, floated down a river or two and plopped in a place where they could be free … and pursue their dreams. Never in the history of mankind has such a clumping of losers turned into such a winning formula–making a little, crawling crustacean called the crayfish into a magnificent mini-lobster treat.