Friday Morning Latin Lesson, Vol XLII

I hate to continue being the Debby Downer (apologies to all those Debbies out there...never mind, they're too busy in Dallas to read this blog), but since today is Eric's funeral, I thought maybe I should at least continue to be respectful. However, as much as it pains those of us who have lost a friend and loved on, we must continue on. Life continues. And part of life means the useless highly interesting study of a language that has been swallowed by history.

In a time like this, I would normally go into a long, boring highly interesting description of Roman funerary practices. However, they were...well, funerary. Suffice it to say, the Romans believed in an afterlife, even in the pre-Christian days. They also believed in ghosts. In fact, the Latin word for ghost is lemur, lemures (pronounced "lay-myoor, lay-myoor-ace"; ghost, ghosts). Linnaeus, he of binomial taxonomy fame, chose the name "lemur" for the prosimians found on the island of Madagascar because, like ghosts, you saw lemurs at night. Ha, take that, King Julian.

Okay, all this talk of ghosts and such is sad and more suitable for the end of the month. *sniff, sniff* I smell a Halloween-oriented Latin lesson in the offing! I can feel you all trembling with anticipation.

No, instead of focusing on Roman customs surrounding the dead, I'm heading north and west, to that island filled with those savage Hibernii. Yes, it's true, the Irish are a bit touched in the head, but we love them nonetheless--mostly because they're too short to do serious harm. Aw, little red-headed savages, swinging away feebly against the air while we hold our palms on their foreheads.

Dammit, did I get off track? That's so out of character for me.

Anyway, we all know how the Irish deal with death: they lose to Michigan! Wait, wrong Irish. Rather than focus on the sadness of the loss of a friend or family member, the Irish celebrate the life of the individual who has shuffled off this mortal coil. And they do that in the only way the Irish know how to celebrate: raucous drinking.

Now that I've worked through the mourning and the sadness, it's time to focus on the happy memories that my friend brought me. And, to that end, I say:

"Vivimus et memoramus, gaudeamus igitur."
Pronounced: "Wee-wee-moose ett may-mohr-ah-moose, goh-day-ah-moose eeg-eet-oor."

Translation in the hovertext; and, yes, Eric was a fan of comics and anime, so I thought this cartoon conveyed both the intent of celebrating his life and honoring his memory.

I wanted to take a moment and thank each of you for your thoughts and prayers and support through the past few days. It's been terribly sad and, despite the fact that we've never hung out (with a few exceptions), your words of love and support have been very much appreciated.

When one writes like that, pouring raw emotion into words, trying to capture the feeling, it's difficult for the author. On one hand, you know that others have felt this same pain and loss, and yet, while you are writing you try to capture your hurt, as if you're the only one, as if the loss is yours and yours alone. I truly appreciate how all of you lent me a virtual shoulder to lean on and handed out some sweet lovin' hug action. Thank you.

Tomorrow, things will return to a more normal atmosphere. Well, as normal as I let it get around here...