A study in (tickled) pink

While I don’t normally take requests, an apparent exception to that rule is that when my mom asks me about the origins of a phrase, I must comply.  At least if I know what’s good for me.    Last week, my dear mother asked me for more information on the origins of the phrase tickled pink ‘immensely pleased’.   On that basis, I’m tickled pink to do so.  I assumed there would be an obvious answer online within about 30 seconds.  Not so much.

The good news is that the sense is well-agreed-upon: when you tickle someone intensely, their skin pinks up as you torture them horribly, and thus to be tickled pink is to be tickled until you’re pink.  I haven’t found any source that disagrees with that etymology, at least, and it makes a lot of sense (unlike the earlier, more hyperbolic, and more gruesome tickled to death). The date and place of origin are where it gets tricky.

My go-to person for idioms is Michael Quinion, whose World Wide Words has covered just about everything.  But the only mention there was a casual allusion in the entry for blue murder. So no help there.

The OED mentions tickled pink in its entry under tickle. But that only takes it back to 1922 and doesn’t really provide much more context.

The Online Etymology Dictionary dates it from 1909 but provides no additional information.

The Ngram for ‘tickled pink’ is interesting – it confirms the 1909-ish date (we can see the actual result here, from a play called ‘Hicks at College’.  It shows big spikes starting in 1917 and 1939 – so perhaps connections to the world wars, in terms of increasing its popularity – then a sharp drop-off after WWII and a new increase starting in the late 70s.

But I know that if it’s showing up in a play in 1909, with no sign of being marked and with no explanation, that it must be earlier.  So a-hunting I will go.

Google Books doesn’t have anything other than an erroneous 1867 hit (a misdating of a conference proceedings).   Most of the other standard databases came up empty.  But then I found this article from 1900 in the New York Sun of July 15, 1900, using the Library of Congress Chronicling America project:

'Tickled Pink', The sun (New York, New York), July 15, 1900, p. 25
‘Tickled Pink’, The Sun (New York, NY), July 15, 1900, p. 25

So now we’re back to the turn of the century in New York City, but we still have a mystery in that the phrase doesn’t attract any attention and is just passed over without remark.   I went off to some more specialized subscription and local newspaper archives and did a bit more searching, but I came up empty there.

There’s always more work to do, but for now all we can say is that it probably dates to the last decade of the 19th century (if it were much earlier, you’d think it would have come up somewhere in the masses of printed text from that period) and that its sense really hasn’t changed much in the past century.  So I’m tickled pink to have taken it back this far, but rubbed the wrong way now that I’m stuck.

Linguistics at Futility Closet

Whether you are as odd as I am – a select number, to be sure – or only wish you were – you should be delighted to hear that the wonderful Futility Closet website has just released its second book-length compilation of curiosities and oddities, Futility Closet 2: A Second Trove of Intriguing Tidbits.    Greg Ross has consistently, for nearly a decade, offered up a panoply of weird facts, puzzles, historical tidbits, trivia, and other strangenesses, virtually every day, at the website.  The book, which follows in the wake of Futility Closet: An Idler’s Miscellany of Compendious Amusements, is on my short list of ‘things to buy many copies of for my clever and interesting friends’.    I should add that Greg and his wife Sharon Ross also run a weekly podcast of the same name, which is just as wonderful as the site and the books.

Language is a recurring theme at Futility Closet, and so, given the readership over here, I thought I’d share with you some of my favourite language and linguistics- related posts from the past several years:

– You could check out the phylogenetic identification of the world’s hardest language by means of the idiomatic expressions used by speakers of other languages of the form, “It’s all Greek to me“.

– Of course, no one thinks that Esperanto is the world’s hardest language – but did you know that there was once, very briefly after World War I, a micro-state whose  official language was Esperanto?

– But even if you don’t have access to such a universal lingua franca, no worries – in some the Romance languages, you can write a poem that can be read in multiple languages!

– In contrast, the poor parrot of Atures could not be understood by anyone – it mimicked an Amazonian language whose human speakers had all passed away!

– This brave interpreter’s act of political rebellion told the truth to a select few.

– Check out Solresol, a language whose phonemes were the seven ordinary notes of the scale, combined in thousands of variations to create words.

– Or if you’re in a less musical mood, try out this well-known offensive quasi-verb.

– Tackle the lexical taxonomy of Borges, which is hardly more strange than any number of real languages.

– Or, also from fiction, the Whorf-inspired Láadan language oriented towards women’s experience.

I can’t recommend it highly enough – go now! I’ll wait for your return!

Lexiculture: 2014 word list

As I mentioned a couple of months ago, I am doing a new iteration of my Lexiculture Project in my undergraduate linguistic anthropology course, which I ran last year to some success (with eight papers published here online).  Over the next month, each of them will research the history, social context, cultural significance, and transformations of one English word, chosen from the list below.  Today I shared the word list with my students, giving them a couple of days to mull over their choices before the signup goes live, and so, in case you’re interested, here it is!

actress
artisanal
avatar
baby bump
barbecue
bruschetta
cafeteria
car phone
challenged
childfree
chipotle
coed
cornrows
cromulent
cyber
digital
discotheque
douche
downsize
dwarf
Einstein
erectile dysfunction
Eskimo
expat
feisty
finalize
forehead
fridge
gaslight
germ
gestalt
gnarly
going steady
gotten
guru
hardwired
hopefully
househusband
indie
Information Superhighway
ixnay
jock
karma
kewl
magick
make out
man cave
Michigander
mulatto
niche
nonzero
nth
octopi
often
organic
porridge
R.I.P.
red Indian
restroom
rock and roll
rouge
rubber
shanghaied
slider
snuck
soccer mom
soul patch
stalemate
stat
suntan lotion
suplex
swiff
tailgate
troll
unfriend
uppity
upsize
winningest
workshop
xerox
ye olde

Aw richts is pitten by

Every year for the past several years, I’ve had my students in my undergraduate linguistic anthropology course do an exercise.  I give them the following text, without any explanation, and ask them to get into small groups and to translate it into English (without searching for it online):

Aw richts is pitten by. Nae pairt o this darg shuid be doobelt, hained in ony kin o seestem, or furthset in ony shape or by ony gate whitsomeiver, ‘ithoot haein leave frae the writer afore-haund. A hae nae pleens whan the abuin is duin for tae fordle the Scots leed in eddication, sae lang’s naebody is makkin siller oot o’t. Ony speirins write us.

The student response usually starts with bafflement, followed by a tentative effort to take on a few obvious words like ‘eddication’, followed by some speculation that it is perhaps Old or Middle English.   I then give them a perplexing hint: ‘This text was written within your lifetimes’, and then give them two more minutes to work on it before we discuss it.

The text above is in Scots, and is taken from the Wir Ain Leed site promoting the Scots language.  As you’ll see (if you haven’t already worked it out), it’s a perfectly ordinary copyright notice.   Once the students realize that this is a genre of text with which they are familiar, there’s a sort of a-ha moment.  Once somebody identifies it as Scots (which really, shouldn’t be so hard since the word ‘Scots’ appears in the text), I read it out loud in its entirety in my not-too-bad but certainly-not-perfect Groundskeeper-Willie-esque Scots.  Once the language and the genre have been established, the rest of the translation, which we do collaboratively as a whole class, moves along well.

The point of the exercise is first of all, to get the students to reflect on what constitutes English (or any language) by prodding at its boundaries.  With Scots, there are still some scholars who would insist that this is ‘Scots English’ – i.e., a dialect of English, albeit a fairly divergent one. Others (I think most, these days) define it as one of two languages descended from Middle English, the other being English, of course, and separate out Scots proper (the language) from various Scottish English registers.

It’s a handy little exercise.   It lets me talk about ‘A language is a dialect with an army and a navy‘, and then to compare and contrast the Scots case with Yiddish. It lets me introduce (and complicate) the question of mutual intelligibility (with reference to cases like Serbian/Croatian); most students are (sensibly) reluctant to define what they just read as English on the grounds that they couldn’t understand it.  It lets me introduce the distinction between ‘a Scottish accent’ and the broader range of features that constitute  dialects or languages, and to link this to our text (McWhorter’s The Power of Babel).

Like I wrote earlier, I do this every year.  Just by chance, ‘Aw richts is pitten by’ was on the schedule for yesterday’s class, just as the Scottish independence referendum looms large in the minds of many.  Even American college students, who are stereotypically characterized as having no awareness of anything else in the world, may have heard John Oliver’s hilarious rant on the subject.  To talk about this issue, just at this decisive political moment, brought an additional level of analysis into play.

I don’t have a horse in this race, which actually surprises me a bit, since I lived for a decade in Quebec as an ethnolinguistic minority amidst an environment of secession fever.  But then, of course, most Scots don’t speak Scots regularly, if at all, and the debate there isn’t about linguistic nationalism to any significant degree.  Regardless of how it all turns out, it cast a poignant light on a favoured classroom moment, at a critical juncture in the history of two nations.

Jim Lambek, 1922-2014

I learned the sad news today that the mathematician Joachim Lambek (Jim to all of us who knew him) passed away yesterday at the age of 91.    Jim was one of my mentors and an external committee member for my Ph.D.     Jim will be known to mathematicians (of whom I suppose relatively few if any will read this blog) for his many articles in formal subjects far beyond my knowledge or ability, but also as a warm and generous scholar.

I came to him in a rather roundabout way; in discussions with my advisor, Bruce Trigger, he suggested to me that if I really wanted to do this numbers thing, then I should have a mathematician on my committee just to make sure I wasn’t mucking things up too badly.  As it turned out, I was very fortunate that Jim was at McGill, as he was a major pioneering figure in applying mathematical methods to linguistics (1958, 1979), had written several pieces on the analysis of kinship systems using techniques pioneered by, for instance, Floyd Lounsbury, had also published anthropological material with his son Michael (who I later met at the University of Toronto) (Lambek and Lambek 1981), and was also the co-author of a superior undergraduate text on the history of ancient mathematics, The heritage of Thales (Anglin and Lambek 1995).  At our first meeting I must have seemed such the infant, but he graciously passed me an offprint of his recent paper ‘A rewrite system of the Western Pacific’ (Bhargava and Lambek 1995) and suggested that we could have some future discussions, which we did.  His impact on Numerical Notation and on my work as a cognitively-oriented linguistic anthropologist is subtle but great.    I am hardly the sort of person who can summarize his much broader impact on his home discipline, except to say that he will be missed.

Anglin, WS, and Joachim Lambek. 1995. The Heritage of Thales. Springer.
Bhargava, Mira, and Joachim Lambek. 1995. “A rewrite system of the Western Pacific: Lounsbury’s analysis of Trobriand kinship terminology.” Theoretical linguistics 21 (2-3): 240-253.
Lambek, Joachim. 1958. “The mathematics of sentence structure.” American mathematical monthly:154-170.
Lambek, Joachim. 1979. “A mathematician looks at Latin conjugation.” Theoretical Linguistics 6 (1-3):221-234.
Lambek, Joachim, and Michael Lambek. 1981. “The kinship terminology of Malagasy speakers in Mayotte.” Anthropological linguistics:154-182.