Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, November 30, 1995 TAG: 9511300011
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 3 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: JOEL ACHENBACH
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
A: We approach this question with trepidation, knowing that the etymology of the ``wo'' could mean something horribly offensive like ``lesser variant of'' or ``kitchen helper to'' or ``version of which won't take out the garbage'' or something.
In fact, ``woman'' derives from the Old English word ``wifman,'' from the roots ``wif'' and ``man.'' A woman (wifman) was a ``wife-person.'' (``Man'' was the generic word for human being. Though of course there was no word meaning ``husband-person.'')
The word ``wifman'' was pronounced something like ``weef-mon.'' Over time, the ``f'' sound vanished, as did the letter, and the word became ``wimman.'' Then the Normans invaded England and the pronunciation changed: The word became ``wumman'' in the singular and ``wimmin'' in the plural. The double-m was eventually dropped. (Since hardly anyone could read or write, there were variations on all these things; for the complete, eyeball-tiring survey, check the Oxford English Dictionary.)
Normally, spelling follows pronunciation. But ``woman'' and ``women'' may be a special case, because the spelling could have evolved due to a handwriting dilemma.
Richard Venezky, a linguist at the University of Delaware, says that during the Middle Ages people wrote in Carolingian script, which featured closely arrayed downward strokes for letters like ``w'' and ``m'' and ``i'' and ``u.'' These letters looked almost identical, because the connecting strokes at bottom or top were faint and hard to see.
A word like ``wimin'' was almost impossible to write legibly - all the letters feature these downward brushstrokes (which, appropriately enough, are called ``minims''). Written in the Carolingian script, the word ``wimin'' would just be a rash of vertical lines, as though someone were keeping score in a game of darts. ``Wuman'' was also hard.
So they just changed the spelling. They inserted round letters instead of ones with vertical lines. ``Wuman'' became ``woman.'' ``Wimin'' became ``women.'' But we kept pronouncing these words the same way.
This clustering of downward strokes is also why the word ``which'' isn't spelled ``hwich,'' even though any dictionary will tell you that the ``h'' sound comes first, if it comes at all. The knuckleheads just switched the ``w'' and ``h'' in ``hwich'' and today hardly anyone notices.
Q: Why does a clock go ticktock?
A: You probably don't have any ticking clocks in your home. Your clock probably has a digital display, maybe even one of those horrible contraptions where the numbers are on flaps that flop over with a lazy splacking noise. The ticktock of a clock is a sound as lost to modern society as the crunching of coffee beans in a hand-grinder and the gurgling of a percolator.
A mechanical timepiece, whether it's a clock or a watch, always has something called the escape wheel, says Paul Wuthrich, a research engineer at Timex Corp.
This escape wheel wants to turn. It has the force of the spring or weight behind it. But usually it can't move because it has a steel pin (or, in a fancy timepiece, a jewel) sticking into one of the gaps between its teeth.
There are actually two steel pins. They alternate in this role of stopping the wheel. One pulls out, the other sticks in. The ``tick'' and ``tock'' is the sound of the pins striking the wheel. In that fraction of a second as the one pin is leaving and before the other has engaged, the wheel turns - it ``escapes'' the pressure of the pin.
Thus the second hand turns until ``tick!'' the wheel is stopped. Then it turns again until ``tock!'' there's another stop.
Then the bomb detonates and all you hear is the boom.
The Mailbag:
Pete P., of Fairfax, Va., asks, ``Why is one prong on an electrical plug bigger than the other?''
DEAR PETE: If you are like us, you occasionally find yourself with a serious prong problem, such as a three-pronged plug but only a two-hole outlet, or a plug with one big prong that you want to fit into an outlet with only two small holes. What we do in this situation is just force everything together, while cursing, even if it means breaking off a prong or two.
For more help we spoke to Mark Earley, chief electrical engineer of the National Fire Protection Association.
``To force polarization,'' was his answer.
By having one prong and one outlet hole larger, it means there's only one way the plug can be inserted into the wall. This allows the magical thing called polarization, in which one of the two wires inside the cord will be ``grounded,'' meaning that this wire, through the grounded prong that's inserted into the grounded hole, will be electrically connected to your water pipes or some other metal object that's firmly planted in the Earth itself.
Now, that leaves one side of the line that's not grounded, but still, according to several experts we spoke to, this polarization greatly decreases the chance that you'll get a shock.
The third prong you see on some plugs is yet another anti-electrocution safety feature. If the metal exterior of your fridge becomes electrified, this third prong sends a jolt to the switchbox to trip the circuit breaker and cut all the power to the kitchen.
We assume that four-pronged plugs are next. Prong inflation is a fact of life.
- Washington Post Writers Group
by CNB