The Study of Bugs

I was on the phone with my sister the other day when, out of just about nowhere, the question of etymology vs. entomology came up. "Entomology is the one with the bugs, right?" she asked. And yes, she is absolutely right, which is why it is not poking fun at her to mention it here. She presumed that I, as the older sister with the literary bent, would know better and, in this case, I do... but only because I permanently learned the difference through embarrassment.

Once upon a time in high school I had a boyfriend (shock!) who was brilliant and of an equally bright (though less than modest) gene pool. He and his smart younger sister (aged 13 going on 47) were tightly bonded in a "Well, I-guess-it's-just-us-and-all-these-idiots" kinda way. I liked spending time at their place mostly because this family was altogether a lot more opinionated and politically aware than I was, which was the intellectual equivalent getting a (self-proclaimed) expert tour of places I'd only heard about.

I valued their judgments, is what I should say. What follows doesn't really deserve the prologue.

While the two siblings and I were making dinner at their place we were, for some forgotten reason, discussing Latin root words. Our conversation had hit that witty climax of laughter that leaves everyone sighing and waiting to see who will pick the next topic. And I, stirring something, breathed deeply and said contentedly "I just love entomology!"

The room went cold and I heard the sister guffaw as though, under arguably more normal teenaged circumstances, I was about to be schooled in the primacy of some pop star.

"Entomology" she articulated "is the study of bugs. You mean ETYmology." She cast an aged look to her brother that said clearly It seems we were wrong about this one. And he, to my dismay, started choking with laughter.

Of course bugs are ent, ENT. Like me, an ant held under a magnifying glass. Like entropy. Like the heat death I was currently experiencing in my little universe.

Yes, yes, at 16 I was shy enough to give myself an evening's inferiority complex over two letters corrected by a middle schooler. Pitié, pitié. Still, it's in my brain forever now, and it seems to me the distinction between the words comes up more often than the words themselves.

...And then I couldn't get the image of bugs reading books out of my head. So there you go.

P.S. Something much more devastating will need to happen to set me straight on climactic vs. climatic. I shudder to think what situation that might be.