TWO-FACED

by Steve Steinbock

One of the earliest aphorisms I ever remember learning as a small child is “Look Both Ways Before Crossing.” Is that an aphorism? Perhaps it’s more of a dictum. But I like the word aphorism better. “Look Both Ways” can be applied to all sorts of experiences, not just crossing streets. It could be interpreted as a reminder to weigh all options, to hear all opinions, to examine all evidence, or to read all definitions. It could be interpreted these ways, but it normally isn’t.

The expression is very specific about the number of ways one should look before crossing. It doesn’t say “Look all ways” or “Look every way” or “Look three ways.” It always says “Look both ways.” So it seems pretty specific to looking both ways along a road before stepping off the curb. Perhaps that’s why Janus, the two-faced Roman god, is the deity of doorways, gates, beginnings, and endings. According to myth, the god Saturn gave Janus the ability to see both past and future, which is probably why we name the first month of the year “January.”

About a decade back the wordsmith Richard Lederer invoked Janus when describing contranyms (also known as auto-antonyms. These are words that can mean their opposites. When we encounter these words, we really have to look both ways. Speaking of looking, perhaps one of the best examples of a contranym is the word oversight, which means both “supervision; watchful care” and “omission or error due to carelessness.” In other words, the purpose of “Oversight” is to prevent oversight.

When my parents were really angry but didn’t want to cuss, they often said, “God bless it!” I think they thought it was more polite or acceptable than saying “God damn it” but it came out just as nasty. It turns out that this use of “blessing” goes way back. Even the Bible occasionally uses the term “bless” euphemistically when it really means “curse.”

On the subject of religious contranyms, there’s the word sanction, which can mean to permit something or to censure – or not permit – something.

A few other interesting contranyms:

To cleave means both to attach to something or to split something in half.

When you buckle your shoes or your belt, you’re making them tight. But when your knees buckle they become loose and wobbly.

Similarly, to bolt means both the fasten something, or to run away.

To clip means either to cut something our or off (like newspaper clippings or nail clippings) or to attach things (like what a paper-clip does).

The words fast, bound, and pitch can all refer either to make something stay in place (pitching a tent; binding something fast), or to make or describe something in motion (he threw a fast pitch but the man on third was bound for home).

As some of you know, I review audiobooks. One jarring error that I’ve heard a number of narrators make is to pronounce the word “secreted” as though it were the passive form of secrete (to ooze out, as in a secretion) when the author intended it as the passive form of secret (to cause something to be hidden, in other words to make sure it doesn’t ooze out).

It’s funny that the verbs skin, seed, and core refer to removing the skin, seeds, or core of a food product. I guess it would be pretty hard to put them back on.

When you wind up a toy, you make it start. If you get me all wound up I might find it hard to stop. So as I wind up this column, I make it end. So in the spirit of Janus, the god of beginnings and endings, I bid you to look both ways before crossing and I’ll see you back here next Friday.