Sometimes the Road to Happiness is a Bit Catawampus

 

It's clear that as words evolve in the English language, they often change meanings, sometimes only slightly while at other times they shift with dramatic disparity. Such a word falling into the latter category is catawampus, often spelled cattywampus.

If you notice a road wandering off diagonally or a seam sewn off the intended destination, you might describe both as catawampus--diagonal, askew, awry.

But back in 1834 in the word's first use, it was an adverb meaning completely, utterly, avidly.

By 1843 catawampus appeared as a noun in Dickens' Martin Chuzzlewit with an even more interesting definition: a hobgoblin or other frightening fantastical creature. 

And from 1864 to today the word catawampus heralds an image of something that is diagonal, on a bias, maybe even crooked as opposed to straight.

If a particular line or path changes so that it looks as if it is diagonal, could it not also be described as diverting from that given line or course? I like to think of words as having metaphorical as well as literal meanings, and that's the direction of this word's linguistic path that we will explore.

No matter how certain we might be about the career we have chosen, there are no guarantees that a person, situation, or new knowledge and understanding might alter our plans. So what could possibly divert us from our intentions and why?

We humans love to change our minds, as long as the idea of change belongs to us and we have initiated it ourselves. Otherwise, we hate change. Sort of. If we don't like our job, we can find another one. College students often decide on a different major midstream and therefore a new career plan. And there are lots of other moves we make when dissatisfied: buying a bigger house for a growing family or downsizing in a smaller house for a life of retirement, moving to a more suitable climate, getting a divorce or a new partner, taking a gap year before entering university. And then there are the unexpected events that alter our well laid plans and redirect us--accidents, illness, and a myriad of other tragic events that deflect us from our intended purpose.

The beauty of going catawampus is the mere idea of change, often a change for the better, something akin to rebirth and transformation, or at least an opportunity for one.

My mother was a hospital administrator in a Catholic hospital run by savvy Irish nuns for twenty years, not a career she envisioned for herself until my father became medically retired early in life. She was a tremendous success and was well-loved and respected in her position. I worked as a ward clerk in the surgery department of that hospital between semesters in college. Having first been the purchasing agent of the hospital and later head of five departments, she was immersed in the world of not only business but also of medicine. She saw that career for me, too, having watched me compete in speech tournaments in high school, thinking I could easily substitute the field of speech pathology for my love of speech and theatre. To please her, I tried it but with little success. It didn't take long to convince me this wasn't the field for me and I switched majors to English and speech. When I graduated with a B.A., I went on to attain two more degrees in the field and taught both subjects for the next forty-six years. My catawampus move prompted a fruitful and rewarding career.

With apologies to Dickens, taking a catawampus path that could lead to a more contented life is not frightening, nor is it fantastical. It may seem like a hobgoblin at first--change sometimes does feel that way, but with a bit of confidence we can get past our doubts and fears and walk down the road to a happier outcome. 

Here I go again, I hear those trumpets blow again, all aglow again, taking a chance...

Okay, now go for it!