"Y" is for Yesteryear, Yore and Back in the Diz-ay

"A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hi-ho, Silver! The Lone Ranger with his faithful Indian companion, Tonto, the daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains led the fight for law and order in the early West. Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear . . The Lone Ranger rides again!" ~ Opening Narrative, The Lone Ranger, TV show (1949-1957)

To be honest, I only watched it because I thought Silver was the coolest horse anywhere! Seeing those dates, I realize I not only saw the first runs, but was already watching reruns when I was only 8 and 9. A common occurrence today, I know. But, for me it's hard to believe, since TV hadn't even been around that long. 

My "thrilling days of yesteryear" go back to the days when I watched Silver run across the TV screen. I am certain we can all relate in some way. But I began to wonder who ever thought of that phrase in the first place, and whether or not anyone ever uses it anymore. 

I decided it'd be wise to look at a little etymology on the subject.

Word Origin and History

Coined in 1870 by Dante Gabriel Rossetti from "yester(day) + year" in order to translate the French word antan (from V.L. *anteannum  "the year before") in a refrain by François Villon: Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan? which Rossetti then rendered, "But where are the snows of yesteryear?"

Since the time literature wrote about the snows of yesteryear, dictionaries decided to extend the meaning beyond just the previous year, to: past years; time gone by; yore. I like that one -- yore.

"In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly day of yore;" ~The Raven, Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) 

In Cummings' Study Notes on this poem, day of yore is described as the distant past. I like that definition the best. 

Looking at the years Poe lived and wrote, I arrive at yet another conclusion. Yore preceded the development of yesteryear. (Doesn't it sound like there should be some sort of double meaning there?) 

In an excerpt from A Story of the Drunk Curse, this short story writer also refers to the days of yore. (I add this one simply because I like the way it's written :~)

"As these visions of the happy days of yore passed like fairy dreams before her she heaved an involuntary sigh as she passionately exclaimed: Oh drink, thou hast been our curse; turning our happiness into misery; our Eden of bliss into a waste, weary wilderness of poverty and woe!"  
~From Wealth to Poverty by Austin Potter (1842-1913)

And yet, it proves rather interesting when one considers that the traditional beginning of a bedtime story also arose from the phrase, days of yore.

"In days of yore and in times long gone before there was a King...," or, "There was once, in days of yore and in ages and times long gone before..."; in England, where we strive not to waste words, this becomes "Once upon a time..."  
~Arabian Nights, The Book of a Thousand Nights and a Night, by Sir Richard F. Burton

The question remains, are either yesteryear or days of yore still in use today? In response, I defer to what the Urban Dictionary coughed up when I made the query:

~days of yore isn't defined yet~  

But, it also rendered this phrase with its entertaining definition:

"back in the diz-ay" - n days of yore; olden times; mythical past where the girlies were hot, the beer cold, and the nintendo worked perfectly without having to blow inside the cartridge; the good old days

Does this mean I have to change my bedtime story-telling tactics? I hope not. Somehow, "Back in the diz-ay" just doesn't seem to have the same affect as, "Once upon a time, in days of yore and in ages and times long gone, before there was a King -- in the thrilling days of yesteryear..." 

A bit too long to start a story? Uh...what can I say...I'm not English :~)

"E" is for EARTHWORM

At the end of the month I would turn 8, making this the first Fourth of July I was allowed to have my own firecrackers, which I had tucked nicely away into my back pocket.  My dad had rented our normal little cottage for the long holiday weekend, that was somehow big enough for all 4 of us kids. My grandpa and grandma would be there for the day to fish, visit, and watch Dad set off all the fireworks from the dock that night.

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The morning was overcast, but I had a hankering to go fishing. Getting up early, I spent a good amount of time in the wooded area behind the cottage, digging for night crawlers -- those nice big over-sized earthworms that come up to the surface at night. I figured about a half dozen in a paper cup would do it, and grabbed my pole as I headed down to the dock. Dad had concluded it was too much of a bother to take the boat out in the misty drizzle.

I was pretty good with a rod and reel in my hand, casting out a good distance, and liked using a little red and white plastic bobber to watch in the water. The first worm sat tight on the hook, but was still lost to young perch -- just nibblers. My next one gave it up when the hook momentarily caught on some underwater debris. By now I was even more determined to catch something worth showing off.

My next cast landed at the edge of the lily pads, and down the bobber went -- a good hard hit. I didn't even have to set the hook! As I began to reel it in, I realized there wasn't the normal fight of a fish at the end of my line. Closer...closer...almost up to the dock...and I finally could see it in the dark water. A turtle!

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Lifting it out of the water with my pole, I swung it over to the grassy bank. Running down the dock, I called out to my two teen-aged brothers, "Come and see! Come and see!!" By the time I got to the crawling turtle, both of them were already there investigating. Yep. The worst thing had happened. It was a snapper!

Placing a stick the size of my finger into its mouth, they showed me how the little green guy would just snap it in two. I faced a dilemma: how to get my line out with the hook intact. The boys walked away, saying I was on my own. Great. I knew I would have to get Dad to cut the line and attach a new sinker-weight and hook, but I also knew Dad wouldn't want to mess with it right then.

I moved the turtle and pole a good ways inland, then headed up the embankment to the cottage. Dad seemed rather busy entertaining everyone there when I spoke up, but leaning down he told me I would need to find something else to do. As far as I was concerned, that was simply not an acceptable solution.

With renewed determination, I patted my back pocket, grabbed my pole, reeled the line in till the turtle was right up to the end of my rod, and marched out to the end of that dock. Then...carefully...I took not one, but two firecrackers, out of my pocket and carefully twisted their fuses into one. Lighting the mini explosives, I held them up to the snapper's mouth. As he chomped down hard, they held together, and I quickly lifted my rod and cast the turtle out high over the water -- as if it was going to be bait for a bigger catch.

Kapow!! Blam!! Pieces flew everywhere! My eyes scanned the shore to see if anyone had noticed. Not a soul. My moment of glory, and no one saw it! Not that I enjoyed the fact that I had just blown up a turtle, but I reveled in the realization that I had just solved my impossible dilemma! 

Slowly, I reeled in my line, relieved that the sinker and hook were still in place. But, then I looked again. I could hardly believe my eyes! There -- sitting on the hook completely intact and almost like new -- was my nice big over-sized EARTHWORM!

"B" is for...The Bittersweet Backfire of Itsy Bitsy

Kindergarten has very Bittersweet memories for me. With a heartfelt smile, I can still recall my first at-school friend, Sheila. I even remember where she lived, although I was never at her house. Sheila and I really liked doing one particular song together, especially with the cute little hand gestures:

   The Itsy Bitsy spider went up the water spout.
   Down came the rain, and washed the spider out.
   Up came the sun, and dried up all the rain,
   And the Itsy Bitsy spider went up the spout again.

When all of us had finished our task for the day from our workbooks, Sheila and I would often be the first ones to grab the crayons and coloring books, pull up our chairs to one of the tables in the main room, and work at showing off our artistic abilities.

In the free-play room next door, there was a vast array of toys to pick from for indoor physical play. Because I much preferred the outdoor playground, I spent very little time there. Besides, the most dreaded of all kindergarten activities happened in that second room -- nap time.

We each had a fringed rag rug, rolled up and tucked away in its own little niche along one wall of that playroom. When nap time was announced, we soon learned it meant to quietly put all toys away and take our rugs out of their cubbies. Then we were to carry the drooping fringed mass over to our predetermined napping spot and roll it out. I always placed mine next to Sheila's.

First, we'd have storytime while sitting cross-legged on our colorful rugs. Then, when the book closed, we were to lie down and close our eyes -- and keep them closed until the teacher came back into the room. She usually went through our workbooks at her desk in the other room while we napped. For assurance, she would always appoint one child as monitor of the sleepy-time room.

Oh...to be Monitor! When you were the monitor, you got to sit on the storybook chair and watch to see if anyone opened their eyes or moved off their mat. When the teacher came back, she would always ask you for a report. Then you had to decide whether to tattle or not.

Finally it was my turn -- I was picked to sit on the honored chair. I got up from my soft rug next to Sheila, and even moved the chair slightly towards her. There she lay -- quietly, eyes closed, on her own little red, blue and gray rag rug. Wasn't she going to peek at me? I always peek at her when she monitors, I thought. But she didn't open her eyes.

Now, this was a true dilemma. Monitors were not allowed to touch any classmate -- no matter what. But I wanted to poke her so she'd look at me. So, I got to thinking...if I was just innocently swinging my feet, because they don't reach the floor, and one foot accidentally brushed her arm...

Yep. You guessed it. I did just that -- but I bumped my Itsy Bitsy partner just a little too hard. Sheila let out a ye-ouch! causing the teacher to come flying into the room, and then...I couldn't believe it! Sheila tattled! And...she dared to say that I kicked her! Can you believe it!? I felt betrayed.

My wonderfully crafted plan to get my new at-school friend to just look at me, went terribly awry -- just like the spider's plan in the song. Of course, I denied it all. Claimed I was just swinging my feet, and hadn't even realized I had touched her until she yelled out. What a Backfire! And to think it even ended our Itsy Bitsy partnership! This was definitely...

                         The Bittersweet Backfire of Itsy Bitsy.