Over the years I have been engaged a time or two over my use of certain large-ish words. I have a whole low-key but determined speech I can give about why I won’t dumb them down or out (it has to do with the taste and rhythm of the right word, even if it is, um, polysyllabic), but for now let me distill the sermon to this: all them words in the dictionary are free, and you can walk right in there and take one whether you wear ratty flannels or academic regalia, and why not? So it did my heart good to come across this post by Mary Cutrufello (you must read all the way to the end to understand why I was pleased) that invokes diesel smoke, maple syrupin’, rotting snow piles and big beautiful words.
May I also say my original acquaintance with Mary came via her music, which remains her center.
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