Growing up, I kept a Random House dictionary next to my bed.
It called itself a “pocket” dictionary, but unless you had a pocket the size of
a kangaroo’s pouch, you would not be able to carry it around in your clothing.
It was a paperback, true, but it was an extremely thick volume. From elementary
school through college, I used it whenever I came across a new word in whatever
book I was reading at the time. Sometimes, when I was bored, I would just flip
through it to learn new words. I, of course, looked up naughty words, but this
dictionary didn’t have the really bad ones. The naughtiest word I found in
there was “gamete.”
These days, hard copies of dictionaries are very uncommon. With that new-fangled thing called the internet, definitions can be looked up instantly via computer or one’s handheld telephonic device. Actual paperbound dictionaries are somewhat of a novelty now, but recently my 9-year-old son decided he wanted one.
He, like his older brother, is an avid reader, but despite having a robust vocabulary for a tot of his age, there are certainly still words he comes across, for which he does not know the definition. And, since he has terribly mean parents who have not given him his own computer or handheld telephonic device, he cannot always find out word meanings instantly whilst reading. So a dictionary seemed the perfect solution.
When my son mentioned his interest in purchasing a dictionary with his own money, my wife pointed out that she had seen one at the dollar store, so perhaps he could get one the next time we go. As fortune would have it, I had occasion to go the very next day to purchase some paper goods, so I brought the lad with me. It took some searching, but sure enough, tucked away in the party supplies aisle was “Webster’s Large Print Dictionary.” (Not sure what kind of celebration would constitute using dictionaries as party favors, but is sounds like a wild one.) In any event, my son happily purchased his very first dictionary.
As we drove home I heard my son flipping through the pages of his new book in the back seat. A few moments later he said, “Dad, there’s something wrong with this dictionary.”
“What do you mean? What’s wrong with it?” I asked, bemused.
“It doesn’t have the word FORMAT in here,” he said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, on the cover it says, ‘Easy to read format,’ so I decided to look up the word FORMAT and it’s not in here.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. That’s a pretty basic word. I’m sure it’s in there,” I said, pulling over. “Hand me that book.”
My son handed me the dictionary and I feverishly paged through it. I ran my finger down the “F-O-R” entries and sure enough, it went from FORLORN to FORMER.
“I’ll be darned,” I said. “It doesn’t have the word FORMAT, or the word FORM, for that matter,” I said, handing the book back to him.
“I wonder what other words it doesn’t have,” he said, laughing. I was glad to see he found this more amusing than disappointing.
“Look up MUFFIN,” I said, which is the name of one of our cats.
“Nope, it’s not in here,” he chuckled, a few seconds later.
“How about CAT?” I suggested, as he excitedly turned pages.
“No, that’s not in here either. This is a horrible dictionary!” He was becoming giddy with laughter.
“Maybe they just don’t like nouns,” I said. “Look up the word NOUN,” I said.
“No, not here!” he shouted.
“Give me the book back. I want to look up some words,” I said, getting into the complete and utter failure of a dictionary we had in our possession.
“Okay, what word do you want me to look up?” I asked.
“HORSEPOWER,” he said, for reasons known only to him. I quickly turned to the corresponding page.
“Well, they don’t have the word HORSEPOWER or even HORSE, but, oddly, they do have the word HORSEMAN. And while I’m on this page, I can’t help but notice they have the word HORRIBLE, but not HORROR, which is really funny since they use the word HORROR in the definition of HORRIBLE,” I said.
At this point we were both laughing hysterically. We drove home and when we got there, went to my son’s room and spent the next half hour randomly looking up words in this monstrosity of a dictionary. Lest we think it was just nouns that were omitted from this volume, we looked up lots of adjectives and verbs, with intermittent success. For example, while the word WALK was in there, the word JUMP was not. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to which words appeared in this mystery book. (Note: Neither RHYME nor REASON appears in this dictionary, but MYSTERY does.)
Ultimately, while “Webster’s Large Print Dictionary” turned out to be a bust as a reference source, it’s worth every penny of the dollar my son spent on it as a humor volume, and now makes it perfectly clear why they had this book in the party favors section of the store. Next time he’s looking to purchase a dictionary, though, I’ll advise him to spend at least twice as much and perhaps he’ll get twice as many words.
These days, hard copies of dictionaries are very uncommon. With that new-fangled thing called the internet, definitions can be looked up instantly via computer or one’s handheld telephonic device. Actual paperbound dictionaries are somewhat of a novelty now, but recently my 9-year-old son decided he wanted one.
He, like his older brother, is an avid reader, but despite having a robust vocabulary for a tot of his age, there are certainly still words he comes across, for which he does not know the definition. And, since he has terribly mean parents who have not given him his own computer or handheld telephonic device, he cannot always find out word meanings instantly whilst reading. So a dictionary seemed the perfect solution.
When my son mentioned his interest in purchasing a dictionary with his own money, my wife pointed out that she had seen one at the dollar store, so perhaps he could get one the next time we go. As fortune would have it, I had occasion to go the very next day to purchase some paper goods, so I brought the lad with me. It took some searching, but sure enough, tucked away in the party supplies aisle was “Webster’s Large Print Dictionary.” (Not sure what kind of celebration would constitute using dictionaries as party favors, but is sounds like a wild one.) In any event, my son happily purchased his very first dictionary.
As we drove home I heard my son flipping through the pages of his new book in the back seat. A few moments later he said, “Dad, there’s something wrong with this dictionary.”
“What do you mean? What’s wrong with it?” I asked, bemused.
“It doesn’t have the word FORMAT in here,” he said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, on the cover it says, ‘Easy to read format,’ so I decided to look up the word FORMAT and it’s not in here.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. That’s a pretty basic word. I’m sure it’s in there,” I said, pulling over. “Hand me that book.”
My son handed me the dictionary and I feverishly paged through it. I ran my finger down the “F-O-R” entries and sure enough, it went from FORLORN to FORMER.
“I’ll be darned,” I said. “It doesn’t have the word FORMAT, or the word FORM, for that matter,” I said, handing the book back to him.
“I wonder what other words it doesn’t have,” he said, laughing. I was glad to see he found this more amusing than disappointing.
“Look up MUFFIN,” I said, which is the name of one of our cats.
“Nope, it’s not in here,” he chuckled, a few seconds later.
“How about CAT?” I suggested, as he excitedly turned pages.
“No, that’s not in here either. This is a horrible dictionary!” He was becoming giddy with laughter.
“Maybe they just don’t like nouns,” I said. “Look up the word NOUN,” I said.
“No, not here!” he shouted.
“Give me the book back. I want to look up some words,” I said, getting into the complete and utter failure of a dictionary we had in our possession.
“Okay, what word do you want me to look up?” I asked.
“HORSEPOWER,” he said, for reasons known only to him. I quickly turned to the corresponding page.
“Well, they don’t have the word HORSEPOWER or even HORSE, but, oddly, they do have the word HORSEMAN. And while I’m on this page, I can’t help but notice they have the word HORRIBLE, but not HORROR, which is really funny since they use the word HORROR in the definition of HORRIBLE,” I said.
At this point we were both laughing hysterically. We drove home and when we got there, went to my son’s room and spent the next half hour randomly looking up words in this monstrosity of a dictionary. Lest we think it was just nouns that were omitted from this volume, we looked up lots of adjectives and verbs, with intermittent success. For example, while the word WALK was in there, the word JUMP was not. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to which words appeared in this mystery book. (Note: Neither RHYME nor REASON appears in this dictionary, but MYSTERY does.)
Ultimately, while “Webster’s Large Print Dictionary” turned out to be a bust as a reference source, it’s worth every penny of the dollar my son spent on it as a humor volume, and now makes it perfectly clear why they had this book in the party favors section of the store. Next time he’s looking to purchase a dictionary, though, I’ll advise him to spend at least twice as much and perhaps he’ll get twice as many words.
