Today's words

cicatrix /ˈsi-kə-ˌtriks, sə-ˈkā-triks/ (plural cicatrices /ˌsi-kə-ˈtrī-(ˌ)sēz, sə-ˈkā-trə-ˌsēz/) - 1. a scar resulting from formation and contraction of fibrous tissue in a wound  2.  a mark resembling a scar especially when caused by the previous attachment of an organ or part (such as a leaf)

I'm pretty sure that, if I ever encounter this word again, it is going to cross me up unless it is surrounded by a lot of contextual clues.

wideawake /ˌwīd-ə-ˈwāk/ - 1. a soft felt hat with a low crown and a wide brim  2.  sooty tern

I can't imagine running across this one without enough context to distinguish between the very different meanings. The trick for me, with this word, will be putting the emphaSIS on the right syllaBLE. (I keep wanting to put the stress where it would be in the normal pronunciation of those two words.)

Pretty sure . . .

. . . that this is the first time I've ever spread the urushiol from poison ivy contact in the shower before getting it all washed off.

This is unpleasant in a way that significantly greater exposures have not been.

I will now spare the dear reader any further details.

National lacrosse champions!

I'd nearly given up hope of ever seeing the Terp men win a title. I was not yet a lacrosse fan when they won their last one, in 1975. They'd gotten close so often and come away empty handed in 20 final fours and 9 championship games. They were so very close last year. And when the Buckeyes pulled back within 2 goals late, it looked like even Coach Tillman was thinking, "Here we go again!" But they held strong for the victory, and the drought has finally come to an end!

This, of course, isn't my victory. I had nothing to do with it. But I still am enjoying it, along with another title by the women's team this year.

Aside from that: what a nice weekend. Good yard work - which comes with a touch of poison ivy again this year. Going to have to watch out for that the rest of the season. Nice bike ride. Honored our fallen warriors. Now just need to get into training for that triathlon and try to get my tri shorty bought. Not sure the budget is going to allow for that, but we'll see . . .

I've been thinking all weekend . . .

. . . , well, about two things really, but one of them is private and I've already shared it with the appropriate person. The other is a complicated thought about Memorial Day, and one I want to be a little careful with.

So many civilians approach veterans this weekend with well-intended gratitude for their service, but that isn't what this weekend is about. It's for those who gave their very lives in service of their country, and no, giving up family time and all the other things that come with military service, short of the ultimate sacrifice, are not the same thing. Please, this day out of all the year is not the one to thank veterans for our service. It is the time, though, to share in our profound sadness for our friends who are no longer with us because they died defending our nation. They are too often forgotten, and even this weekend that is allegedly dedicated to remembering them itself too often distracts from that. I think that Memorial Day would have been better left observed on May 30, so that at least some years it wouldn't be more of an excuse for a mini-vacation than a day-long opportunity to pause and remember.

But this weekend, I find myself thinking of those who lost their lives not as a direct result of in-theater action, or of preparing for such, but in the aftermath of such service. In particular, I've been thinking of my dad. In truth, I'll probably never know how accurate my thoughts are, but they are good for me to consider anyway. And these thoughts are the ones I want to be careful of.

I'm sure I've written about dad's problems before. As long as I can remember, my adoptive father was an alcoholic who never really accepted me for who I was, unequipped as I was to recreate his glory days of youthful athletic excellence. I was fourteen when he took his own life.

But dad was also a veteran of the Korean Conflict, an Army vet who was shot in battle. And it has only recently occurred to me to wonder how much this had to do with the rest of his life, including his broken marriages and relationships, his self-medication with alcohol, and his suicide. There is a much greater focus today on how trauma ravages the psyche long after it is experienced, a truth that I know first-hand due to an entirely different set of circumstances from those affecting most veterans. Back in my dad's day, the stigma associated with perceived weakness likely made the struggle in some ways more difficult. To whom was a veteran to turn for support?

Is this why dad turned to the bottle? I will never know. Is this, at least in part, why he took his life? Likewise, a mystery.

I know that there is a danger in recognizing among the heroes we remember this weekend those many veterans who die by their own hands after returning home. I realize that glorifying suicide is a dangerous thing for those who struggle in the same battle every day. We shouldn't do anything to make this option look more attractive to them. We should find other ways to support and help them. But this weekend, I think it might be good for us to quietly remember those broken men and women whose "ultimate sacrifice" may not have been so obvious, and silently thank them, too, for their service to our nation, without doing it in a way that ever encourages others to seek that end to their own battle.

Dad, thank you for giving your life for my freedom.

Today's words

First, several from the Dictionary Devil puzzle:

aplite /ˈa-ˌplīt/ - a fine-grained light-colored granite consisting almost entirely of quartz and feldspar

A word that should always be taken for granite.

pluvial /ˈplü-vē-əl/ - 1a.  of or relating to rain  b.  characterized by abundant rain  2. of a geologic change : resulting from the action of rain

We've had a quite pluvial May in these parts. This word continues to chase me to the online dictionary whenever I encounter it.

petrel /ˈpe-trəl, ˈpē-/ - any of numerous seabirds (especially families Procellariidae and Hydrobatidae); especially :  one of the smaller long-winged birds that fly far from land — compare storm petrel

Based on its etymology, I'm guessing that the second pronunciation is a variation based on the word's current spelling.

limpid /ˈlim-pəd/ - 1a. marked by transparency (see transparent 1) :  pellucid  - limpid streams
b.  clear and simple in style - limpid prose  2.  absolutely serene and untroubled

Funny thing: the closest I've been to the second definition in a very long time was the night I thought I might be dying. 

Finally, a new WOTD:

inanition /in-uh-NISH-un/ - 1. the exhausted condition that results from lack of food and water
2. the absence or loss of social, moral, or intellectual vitality or vigor

I am certain that I've encountered this word before, and known what it meant from context. Perhaps the relationship with inane will help me to recall it should I run into it again, but I'm concerned it will just throw me off.

Continued

You seem to be looking for a level of affirmation from me that I'm not able to give. The thing is, we all choose words and actions, at least sometimes, that even our most ardent supporter can't be "on our side" about. (In this case: as if there's a war going on between you and our daughter and I have to choose sides.) Those who love us best will help us see the other side, the part we missed. (That's probably where I most failed you. I should be the one who helps you understand. I'm sorry.) The situation with our granddaughter's biological father was an example, recent enough to probably still be pretty fresh for you. I suspect that we still don't see eye-to-eye concerning your initial actions there, and that situation may be part of why last night was so distressing for you. 

In this case, I clearly agree with our daughter that it would have been better had you not told her daughter that her mom's current boyfriend isn't technically her stepdad, and that it would have been better for you to discuss this with our daughter. I know that you were technically correct and that you didn't intend for it be a big deal; I understand the context and that this was a toss-off thought for you. At the same time, I don't agree that our daughter was out of line in how she expressed this to you, except by the medium; I thought her text was pretty reasonably stated, for a text on a topic like this.

But here's the crux: regardless of whether you meant for it to be, or whether it should have been, or how innocent your intentions were (and please know this: I completely understand that you intended no malice or judgment), this was a big enough deal for our granddaughter that she discussed it with her mom.

So, just as you so rightly teach our grandkids, when we hurt others, even unintentionally, we need to stop defending ourselves and apologize for it. It makes things much worse when we try to defend our own thoughts and innocence rather than apologize for the hurt that resulted. Our conversation would have been very different had you been able to say, "I guess I stuck my foot in my mouth today," or even, "I apologized to our daughter today even though I don't really think I should have had to," instead of being so adamant that you didn't do anything wrong and that no one had cause to be upset.

I'm sorry that I've made you feel that I don't have your back. That issue is way older than this, and goes back to the judgment I used to heap on you all the time to prop up my own self-image. But that history also doesn't change this truth. The fact is that you often commit emotional faux pas; it is just a part of who you are that you don't realize how your words might come across. But I love you, and when you do this I will continue to love you, but will not act as if what you've done or said is okay. The best I can do is to help you know that my love for you isn't going to waver. I hope that's good enough for you.

Our never-ending dynamic

I often hear you explain to our grandchildren how they need to apologize when they hurt one another, even if their intention wasn't hurtful, even if the harm was accidental. 

This often applies to us, too.