|
The stranger in the back seat of my taxicab regarded me with
quickened interest when I told him I was writing a book. "I'll
tell you something Americans don't know but which many Greeks
know — It's the origin of your word, O.K." He sat
back with a mysterious air and regarded the shoppers in Union
Square. His girlfriend gazed languidly out the other window.
Now here was a gift. I knew lexicographers had been trying
to pin down the roots of "O.K." for years.
"It's the Greek, 'Ola Kala,' meaning 'Everything's
fine.'" He went on, "Two centuries ago, when Greek
shipping dominated world trade, signalmen on sailing vessels
would haul flags for 'O.K.' up their masts when they came
to American ports such as Boston or Portland so the shore
parties would know everything was all right. On shore, warehousemen
would find the mysterious Greek letters, 'O K,' (among
others) stamped on crates and boxes."
|
|
|
|
—You're kidding!
|
| |
|
I had to laugh when he handed me a sheet of paper with the
Greek words written in our own Roman alphabet: "Ola Kala."
It was so obvious, I just had to ask him how American etymologists
had missed it. He shrugged his entire body and said,
|
|
"—Very mysterious."
|
|
At the next red light, I turned and looked at the woman.
|
| |
|
"It must be wonderful over there in Greece," I said with
a smile.
|
| |
|
"—Less bitter," she said,
and looked away.
|
|
