Here's the real (origin of) Namby Pamby

We all like to refer to popular phrases, but who among us actually knows where these unique descriptions come from?

One that always struck me as odd was "flora and fauna." I have a handle on flora, but the fauna? No clue.

So off to the Internet I went.

I really hate to rely on Wikipedia for anything, but in this case they actually came through.

The term correlates the description of plant life (flora) and animal life (fauna). Typically, the term is used to describe the physical makeup on a certain island or climate of a region.

Doing a little more research, I found some other phrase descriptions that had always puzzled me:

A man after my own heart: Actually comes from the King James' Bible, Samuel 13:14: "But now thy kingdom shall not continue; the Lord has sought him a man after his own heart, and the Lord hath commanded him to be captain over his people, because thou hast not kept that which the Lord commanded thee."

Absence makes the heart grow fonder: The Roman poet Sextus Propertius is responsible for this one. He wrote, "Always toward absent lovers love's tide stronger flows." The modern phrase came about in an 1832 article in The Pockets Magazine of Classice and Polite Literature. It's also the reason mates get along so well for a couple of days after a long business trip.

The acid test: Back during the California Gold Rush in the 19th century, prospectors and gold dealers would add acid to the ore to separate the precious stuff from the worthless. When the metal dissolved in a stew of hydrochloric and nitric acids, it was payday.

An apple a day keeps the doctor away: The phrase goes back to 1866, but Elizabeth Wright penned the following in 1913: "Ait a happle avore gwain to bed, An' you'll make the doctor beg his bread."

Basket case: Unpleasant term from World War I, used to describe soldiers that had lost all or most of their limbs and had to be transported by others. It has evolved to describe one's mental state more than physical in modern-day usage.

Born with a silver spoon in one's mouth: Popularly claimed by the British, the phrase refers to the upper classes born into privilege.

Busy as a bee: Phrase coined before 1400, by Chaucer, alluding to the work ethic of the honey-seeking stinging machine.

Bring home the bacon: Popularly attributed to the story of Dunmow Flitch, who in 1104 received a gift of bacon for his "love and devotion." Coincidentally, a certain Coeur d'Alene Press sports editor would appreciate the same.

Cool as a cucumber: Comes from the 1732 poem "New Song on New Similes," "I (being as) cool as a cucumber could see the rest of womankind."

Two peas in a pod: The phrase from the 16th century attributed to John Lyle, who wrote, "Wherin I am not unlike unto the unskilfull Painter, who having drawen the Twinnes of Hippocrates, (who wer as lyke as one pease is to another."

The old ball and chain: Early 19th century term that, no so politically correct, compares one's wife to the apparatus strapped to a prisoner's leg in American and British prisons. To use the term today within earshot leaves you open to frying pan assault.

I've got a frog in my throat: You'd think this was coined to describe an irritation to the ol' vocal tube, but it was alluding to a cure. In 1894, and advertisement for the Taylor Brothers stated they had a "cure for hoarseness" called "Frog in the Throat." The ad said the cure was 10 cents a box. I could find no information that would describe how froggy you'd feel after taking the cure ...

He's a real Namby Pamby: The term was a nickname first popularized in the 18th century by John Gay, Alexander Pope and Jonathan Swift. The phrase was meant to mock poet and playwright Ambrose Phillips, who was a tutor to King George's grandchildren. Phillips was known for penning sycophantic poems about the brood, and was famous for utilizing baby language, such as "eensy weensy," so his rivals returned in kind to describe him.

I could go on and on, but I figure some things are better left a mystery. Besides, what fun would life be if we knew everything? Ignorance is bliss, and partial knowledge makes you sound a little less like an idiot.

Jerry Hitchcock is always busy as a bee, yet cool as a cucumber in his duties as a copy editor for The Press. He can be reached at 664-8176, Ext. 2017, or via email at jhitchcock@cdapress.com.