The love of my life, really and truly, is the word. Whether spoken or written, but especially written, words are wonderful things. And last week I was introduced to a new one that I really like.
Last week, I decided to clean out my e-mail inbox. One of the mails I came across was from a guy I’d exchanged messages with last summer. He knows a woman I used to work with and was trying to learn about the agency where I worked for seven years because he was applying for a job there (he eventually withdrew from the process because he didn’t like the vibe). So I wrote him last week and asked how he was doing, and he wrote back and asked the same thing, and we had a little chat that suddenly had nothing to do with our jobs but with our families. He despises his brothers as much as I do mine. I like meeting people like this, even if only over e-mail, because I enjoy feeling like I’m right, and the more people I find who agree with me, the more right I feel.
Anyhow, here’s the word he used, woven skillfully into an e-mail about how his family disintegrated after his mother died (if that’s not familiar territory, I’m not sure what is): Primogeniture. I wrote him back and asked him what it meant, but rather than wait for his response I looked it up in the dictionary. It means “The state of being the first-born or eldest child of the same parents,” or, even better, or worse, “The right of the eldest child, esp. the eldest son, to inherit the estate of one or both parents.” As if the word weren’t glorious enough on its own, there was this little gem at the end of his message: “Sent from my iPhone.” That’s some impressive typing, I think.
