It’s getting to that time of the year again when people who work with words start looking for the best of the newest ones that have come into existence during the past twelve months or so.
Writers of all sorts, from journalists to those tireless compilers and editors of dictionaries start sorting their lists of new words and terms that have popped up to deal with the novel developments of the recent past.
All sorts of lexicographers and word collectors get involved, including those that seek out the names for new babes that have become most popular over the year.
There will be, inevitably, someone who has named an infant after the pandemic virus.
It might sound all right now, perhaps.
But five years down the track I would not like to be that child sitting in Class One answering the attendance register with a name that reminds people of possibly the worst year many of us may ever have had.
The word ‘corona’ is not in itself a bad name.
It is Spanish for ‘crown’ but has been around in English for about five hundred years.
It seems to be associated more with the flowery sort of crown-like the beautiful one’s Cook Islands women, amongst others, make and wear to celebrations. It also refers to a ring of light around the sun, like a halo.
There is also a popular beer named Corona, a pale lager out of Mexico which is traditionally served with a wedge of lemon stuffed in the neck, South American style.
I remember the first one I ever had not so many years ago and how I thought I looked so suave and sophisticated – while secretly wondering how I was going to sip around the chunk of lemon with any degree of class.
Or at least without dribbling or choking. The point is that Corona has received unprecedented free publicity during the pandemic.
The word has been on the lips of every newscaster and on the pages of every newspaper for a year. Quaffers of the brew are hardly put off by the association with the pandemic and public relations experts have long held that all publicity, no matter how bad, is good.
An alternative name to commemorate the pandemic, as used by Australians who are notorious for shortening long names and lengthening short ones, appears to be quite acceptable: Rona.
Lots of women carry the name Rona and to this point there is no negative association with it.
According to the various baby name lists, Rona means in Hebrew ‘my joy’; in Scandinavian, it means ‘mighty power’, and the Scots have it as the name of an island although the Gaelic meaning is ‘an oath’. Take your pick.
Aussies now speak of the ‘rona’ although the official virus name of COVID-19 has not lent itself to such friendly familiarity.
I can see it becoming more of a put-down or insult, as in (to a child): “stop hanging about and pestering me to buy you an iceblock, you’re worse than the Covid.” Or perhaps: “Those mongooses are at the rubbish bin again, they’re all over it like COVID-19 in a dodgy coffee shop.”
Which is not to put down those many ethical coffee bars and other businesses that have struggled so hard to ride the fine line of staying in business, serving people who really want a good coffee or a new printer cartridge, while avoiding spreading the virus. ‘Virus’ of course lends itself to insult and epithet.
The ‘rona just adds more punch. I definitely know children who could well be accused of becoming as pervasive as a virus, especially in a kitchen where food is involved.
Not that the COVID-19 virus seems to be spread by food as such. When Melbourne was recently sent back into several days of lockdown it was because someone told a big fib, not because the virus was being served as an add-on with thin crust pizza.
We who are still in areas with at least a small number of COVID-19 cases being detected daily are optimistic that the news of vaccines being produced in several parts of the world is not going to be a blighted hope.
The closer a vaccine seems to get, the more ready we are to chuck our paper face masks over the fence and shake hands again with our previously untouchable friends.
Fortunately, it seems that our pets don’t get or spread the virus, because we have a needy, geriatric Staffordshire bull terrier that apparently believes we were put on earth to pat and cuddle her.
She is quite clever really, but pretends she doesn’t understand instructions such as ‘don’t steal and eat chocolate, it is death to dogs’.
Most recently she has ‘not understood’ instructions regarding our new living room couch, which has pale grey fabric upholstery and many matching cushions.
Clearly too comfy for a wee dog to resist in the midnight hour.
Just the other night a soft snore alerted me to her transgression as I crept past on my way to the kitchen for a midnight snack.
I wanted to shout at her or at least give her a smart surprise slap but was constrained by not wanting to make a noise and wake anyone else.
Most frustrating, having to hiss rude words at her while she pretended not to hear.
I’m sure there must be a new Covid term to cover these sorts of situations if only I can think of it.
- The views and opinions expressed in this article are the author’s and are not necessarily of this newspaper
