Pop
My grandfather JP Fleming (Pop) was a Methodist minister from the 1920s to the 1950s. He was one of nine children, and he came into the world in 1892 and grew up in Sulfur Springs, Texas. Pop had minimal education by today’s standards. But he was smart, was always reading, and was quite the orator.
He was always big on jokes and pranks, too, telling his grandkids, with a sparkle in his eyes, about going “snipe hunting” with a sack. He had many stories growing up with five older brothers.
He would greet us at the back door with, “How’s your spizzerinctum?” which I took as a made-up word, something he was known for. Pop was a real character and frequently used hand gestures or would thrust out his dentures for a startling effect when he said things like, “How’s your spizzerinctum?”
Phrases like “tolerable superfoscal” and “How’s your mortal body seem to gashuate all these long dog juranical days” just flowed from him like water. And the rubber cigar with the worm in the center that came out when he blew into the cigar, scary clown masks, and dominoes. All typical of Pop.
I didn’t have the nerve to question his language, nor was I quick enough to counter. He would already be on to making me spell Fleming, although I was a Stultz. I suppose I just giggled like grandchildren do when stopped in their tracks by loving greetings they can’t answer. I also imagined his brothers making up words on the farm before radio came into their lives.
Pop ministered through the Great Depression and through World War II throughout east Texas in places like Ben Franklin, Terrell, Sulfur Springs, Cooper, and Pecan Gap, and he was often paid in farm goods through hard times. His collected sermons are housed in the library of Perkins School of Theology at SMU in Dallas.
Neologisms
I finally grew up.
I was texting with my like-age cousin Stephen the other day. We came around to rehashing stories about Pop and he mentioned “spizzerinctum.” Stephen is a retired Methodist minister too, but he also could have a Ph.D. in American literature, among other disciplines. I thought still that spizzerinctum was a nonsense word, but Stephen sent me to the dictionary, and I was struck by what I saw.
Spizzerinctum: a noun. To have ambition, vim, energy, or the will to succeed. Additional descriptions use “ardor, zest, and intestinal fortitude. (Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, 10th edition) It is a perfectly-recognized part of the English language if seldom used.
It was totally appropriate for Pop to ask me about my spizzerinctum! It was appropriate then, but I was so overwhelmed when I came to their house, I didn’t pursue it. Neither did Pop!
Turns out, the word was made popular toward the end of the 1890s, in part by the father of chiropractic. It is a very fun word to say with SPIZZ-er INCTUM with emphasis. It certainly does not come from Latin (or Greek). For you English majors, it is onomatopoeic when pronounced the way I am sure it was intended—with zest!
Ardor and Zest!
All that history to suggest that spizzerinctum has too long now languished from the vocabulary of people with Parkinson’s Disease. It needs to be, dare I say, “resurrected” to become a more commonly used word to express our ardor to fight back! Its time has now come full circle- Spizzerinctum for everyone! More spizzerinctum, we all need more.
Pour it in and on us, let’s be full of Spizzerinctum. Pop and Stephen would be so happy!
SPIZZERINCTUM!
SPIZZERINCTUM!
__________
Photo by Gianluca Carenza on Unsplash
Dan Stultz, M.D., is a retired physician who was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease 16 years ago at the age of 57. He practiced internal medicine in San Angelo, Texas, for 28 years and became the President/CEO of Shannon Health System. He served as President /CEO of the Texas Hospital Association from 2007 to 2014 working on medical and health policy. He served as guest faculty at the Texas A&M Medical School in Round Rock and retired in 2016. He and Alice live in Georgetown, Texas.