Posts tagged with "athair"

“Comharsa,” “Monarcha,” “Pearsa”: An Cúigiú Díochlaonadh Arís

Posted by róislín 2 Comments
Jun 10 2011

(le Róislín)

We’ve recently seen several patterns for 5th-declension nouns in Irish.

One small group, which contains some very important kinship terms, looks like this:

athair (father), athar, aithreacha

máthair (mother), máthar, máithreacha

Another group sometimes also has the “-air” ending but works slightly differently when you create the possessive form (adding “-ach”) and includes the following:

cathair (city), cathrach, cathracha

nathair (snake), nathrach, nathracha

This second pattern also contains nouns that work the same way (adding “-ach”), but have slightly different endings (-il, -ir, -in) in their basic form, all within the same family, though.  These include:

triail, trialach, trialacha (trial, attempt)

uimhir, uimhreach, uimhreacha (number)

traein, traenach, traenacha (train)

And now for our third sub-section of 5th-declension nouns.  These add “-n” for genitive singular and, with a few exceptions, “-na” for all the plural forms.  Examples include the following:

comharsa (neighbor), comharsan (of neighbor, neighbor’s), comharsana (neighbors)

monarcha (factory), monarchan (of factory, factory’s), monarchana (factories)

pearsa (person, in the literary, grammatical, or philosophical sense; also, a character in a play), pearsan (of person, person’s), pearsana (persons, cast of characters in a play); “person” in the more physical sense is “duine.”

It’s worth noting that this “-(a)na” plural ending is structurally quite different from the much more widely used “-(e)anna” plural ending (busanna, carranna, ceisteanna, feiseanna, srl.).  For “comharsa,” “monarcha,” and “pearsa,” we’re basically taking the “-n” ending used to show possession and adding an “-a” to it for the plural.  So, there’s only one “-n.”  Another point of contrast is that there are probably thousands of words that have the “-(e)anna” plural, including a lot of recently borrowed ones, but probably only a couple dozen, at least of reasonably widely used words, that are part of this 5th-declension “-(a)na” subset. 

How about a little cleachtadh now.  Freagraí, as usual, thíos.  First we’ll practice the most recent batch, the “-n, -na” words.  Remember these are all feminine, so you’ll have “na” in the middle for “of the,” singular as well as plural.  Oh, and that “na” (meaning “of the”) is not at all related to our “-na” suffix; it’s just a chance similarity.

Cleachtadh A: Word bank: comharsa, monarcha, pearsa (but you’ll need to add the endings, where necessary)

a) úinéir na _____________  (the owner of the factory)

b) úinéirí na ________________ (the owners of the factories)

c) Tá lomaire faiche mo _______________ an-challánach agus úsáideann siad go moch sa mhaidin é.

d) Tá an briathar “táid” sa tríú __________________.  (Leid: táid = tá siad)

e) Cé mhéad ______________ atá sa dráma sin? 

And now, let’s mix it up with other 5th-declension nouns, not just today’s “-n, -na” set:

Cleachtadh B: Word bank: athair, cathair, comharsa, monarcha, nathair, traein.  Sé fhocal i mbanc na bhfocal, ach ocht gceist?  Tá cúpla ceist bhreise ann le haghaidh an chraic agus mar tá na hábhair chomh suimiúil!  It’ll be up to you to decide if you need a possessive or plural form here, and to add the appropriate ending.  

1)     An bhfuil preabmhúnlanna i lár na _________ ? (city)

2)     Cad é ainm d’___________ ? (father)

3)     Cá bhfuil an stáisiún ______________ ? (train)

4)     Na hAchtanna ________________ ? (factory)

5)     An fearr leat cáis ____________________ ná cáis cheardaí ? (factory)

6)     An bhfuil mórán eolais agat ar _________________?  Cad é an ______ is lú sa domhan? (snake)

7)     Cén fáth a dtugtar an leasainm “Juteopolis” ar Dhún Déagh, in Albain?  Freagra: Mar gheall ar na ________________ siúite a bhíodh ann.  (factory)

8)     Ná santaigh teach do ______________; ná santaigh bean do ______________, ná a dhaor ná a dhaoirseach, ná a dhamh ná a asal, ná aon ní is leis (Eaxodus 20:17).  Leid: the use of forms like “a dhaor” and “leis” tell us that the answer is singular; also, unlike some fill-in-the-blank questions, both blanks here are identical.  (neighbor)

And finally, while still talking about “an cúigiú díochlaonadh,” what do “porridge” and “fingernails” have in common.  Well, that’s the cliffhanger don chéad bhlag eile.   Slán go fóill, ó Róislin

Freagraí do Chleachtadh A: a) na monarchan, b) na monarchana, c) mo chomharsana; has to be plural here because of the “siad,” d) pearsa, e) pearsa (singular after the question “Cé mhéad”)

Freagraí do Chleachtadh B:

1) i lár na cathrach

2) ainm d’athar

3) an stáisiún traenach

4) Na hAchtanna Monarchan (sa Bhreatain)

5) cáis mhonarchan (“mh” instead of just “m” because “cáis” is feminine)

6) nathracha; nathair; an ceann is lú (de réir http://www.mapress.com/zootaxa/2008/f/zt01841p030.pdf): snáthnathair Bharbadós (Leptotyphlops carlae), a bhfuil cónaí air ar Bharbadós, é 10cm (ceithre horlaí) ar a fhad agus chomh tanaí le ribe spaigití. 

7) monarchana.  Dála an scéil, ceann amháin acu fágtha anois, fad m’eolais, a bhfuil an t-ainm “Verdant Works” air.  Maidir leis an difear idir an téarma “monarcha” agus an téarma “muileann” sa chás seo (muilte siúite a bhí i gceist, le bheith cruinn), sin idirdhealú nach bhfuil agam go réidh.  Ach chonaic mé “muileann síoda” i liosta na “monarchana” ba shine i Sasana agus mar sin is dócha go dtig linn “monarcha” a úsáid do mhuileann siúite sa chás seo.  “Monarcha” mar scáth-théarma, b’fhéidir.  Agus an Ghaeilge ar “Juteopolis”?  *Siúiteapolas, b’fhéidir.  Bhur mbarúlacha?     

8)) do chomharsan, do chomharsan.  Hmmm, why is the “bean” part of that “aithne” (commandment) so much more memorable than the “damh” and “asal” part?  Changing times, is dócha.  And what about “santú fhear do chomharsan”?  I wonder why that wasn’t specified. 

Gluais: asal, donkey; ba shine, oldest; callánach, noisy; ceardaí, artisan; damh, ox; daor, unfree person, slave; daoirseach, slave, serf; idirdhealú, distinction; is lú, smallest; lomaire, mower; orlach, inch; ribe, strand (of hair, etc.); santú, to covet; síoda, silk; siúit, jute; snáth, thread

Nóta re: *preabmhúnlann (pop-up urinal): If you have any doubts about the *preabmhúnlann concept, which I have not seen implemented in the U.S., just check out the website of the UriLift manufacturer, which cites their popularity in London and Belfast, amongst other places (www.urilift.com).  My question is what to call these devices in Irish, since, yet again, I find nothing online for this phrase.  The choice is basically whether to use “preab-“ as a prefix or “aníos” as a modifier.  “Preab” literally means “bounce,” “spring,” or “leap,” and “aníos” means “upward” or “from below.”  “Preab aníos” means “pop up from below,” but would seem to be overkill for the pop-up urinals.  With “preab,” we have samples like “preableabhar” (pop-up book) and “preabdheis” (pop-up device).

Using “aníos,” we have phrases like mír aníos (a pop-up, i.e. ad, message, etc. on computer), bacaire míreanna aníos, pop-up blocker (lit. blocker of pop-ups), pictiúr aníos (a pop-up picture), and roghchlár aníos (a pop-up menu, as on a computer, not, afaik, as a 3-dimensional feature on a dining table in a restaurant, although, come to think of it, that’s not a bad idea).

Of course, we could always drop the colloquialism “pop-up” and describe them in scientific terms: múnlanna a ardaítear go hiodrálach (múnlanna inardaithe go hiodrálach).  Curiously, at least to me, the Irish for “retractable” is “inardaithe,” but literally, that would mean something more like “able to be raised.”  The word “retractable” in English puts more emphasis on the lowering-down aspect.  Either approach seems reasonable, since that’s exactly what the UriLift does – it gets raised in the evening when it will help with public urination problems, typically around 10 pm, and lowered again in the morning when it’s not needed and would block traffic.  All with a cianrialtán (remote control).

Whither “Nathair”? Mar “Athair” nó Mar “Chathair”?

Posted by róislín No Comments
Jun 6 2011

(le Róislín)

So, you’re staring at the Irish word “nathair” and wondering which way to go for its tuiseal ginideach and its foirmeacha iolra.   Is it going to be like “cathair” or is it going to be like “athair”?

Before we actually answer that (why cut to the chase when we can prevaricate and still learn even more Irish?), let’s imagine the context in which you’re using the word “nathair” (snake) to begin with.  Well, you might be reading “Geineasas” (3:1): “Ba ghlice an nathair nimhe ná aon ainmhí allta… .”  Aistriúchán thíos. 

Or you might be talking about your run-of-the-mill Natrix natrix (aka nathair fhéir, grass snake), one of relatively few snake species found in Britain, though not native to Ireland (naturally, thanks to Naomh Pádraig agus/nó geolaíocht).  Since this same N. natrix apparently lives near water and is also known as a “water snake,” I’m somewhat intrigued as to who decided it would be called “nathair fhéir” (lit. snake of grass) in Irish.  Probably I won’t ever know but presumably it wasn’t na SeanGhaeil iad féin.  They would have had their hands full with naming the various earca, earcáin, péisteanna, and buafa that actually do inhabit Ireland, not to mention na hainmhithe osnadúrtha, mar chait ocht gcos (assuming there was more than one) agus na heich uisce (again, in the plural here, though, come to think of it, there tends to be only one per finscéal).  And if not that nathair neamhnimhneach (N. natrix) perhaps a little more adrenalin-pumpingly, some type of nathair shligreach, as for example, nathair shligreach Aruba (Crotalus durissus) or nathair shligreach iomairshrónach (Crotalus willardi).  Or, and here you can fill in the plural if you like (freagra thios), you could be having a general discussion about   _____________ nimhneacha eile, such as cobraí or mambanna dubha.     

More benignly, you might be wondering how to translate the name of the boardgame, Snakes and Ladders.  Bhuel, “ladder” (singular) is “dréimire,” so, care to hazard a well-crafted guess?  _________ agus ______.  It’s quite straightforward.  Freagra thíos.  And if you’re feeling adventurous, you could translate it into its more commercialized Milton Bradley name, “Chutes and Ladders,” (freagra is also thíos).    

And finally, just to make sure we’re getting the “ginideach uatha” into the mix, who knows when the next cocktail party will offer you the chance to chat knowledgeably about viper’s bugloss (lus na ________; freagra thíos) or to discuss whether there is one or more than one adder in Carn na ________, in northern Scotland (hint: elevation for this “carn” is 786m, and freagra also thíos).     

If you’re on the “ginideach uatha” trail, you’ll probably want to ditch the reference I found online to the Dungeons & Dragons translation for “Temple of the Serpent.”  They got the “na __________” part right, but then overdid it by trying to add the preposition “de” (of, but “de” is “partitive,” not “possessive”).  Another problem with the translation, and another rainy-day topic, is that whoever translated the phrase also used “seipeal” [sic] (no “fadas”), which means either “chapel” or “Catholic church,” not “temple.”  

By now, you’ve probably either analysed, deduced, remembered, channeled, or otherwise figured out the forms that go in the blanks.  Bottom line is that that “nathair” works like “cathair, cathrach, cathracha,” not like “athair, athar, aithreacha.” 

méid na nathrach, the size of the snake

méid na cathrach, the size of the city

There aren’t too many other phrases that one could nicely parallel like that, since we generally distinguish quite clearly between snakes and cities.  Though we could ponder “Gnéas agus an Chathair” and “Gnéas agus an Nathair,” at least for argument’s sake.

For the plurals:

na cathracha, the cities 

na nathracha, the snakes

Hmmm, na nathracha nimhe … na cathracha nimhe … . A statement on mankind’s so-called “progress”?

Well, on that nóta meabhraitheach, sgf go dtí an chéad uair eile, ó Róislín

Aistriúchán (Geineasas 3:1): The serpent (lit. snake of poison) was more cunning than any wild animal … .

Freagraí: nathracha (plural of “nathair”);  Snakes and Ladders, Nathracha agus Dréimirí.  For the “chutes” version, I’d use “sleamhnáin.”  Viper’s bugloss: lus na nathrach.  Scottish mountain: Carn na Nathrach, translated as “the cairn of the adders,” although it would seem to me it should be translated as singular (the cairn of the adder).  The Scottish Gaelic plural for their word “nathair” is normally “nathraichean,” but, sorting all that out is definitely ábhar blag eile.  Temple of the Serpent, for the Dungeons & Dragons game, would normally be “Teampall na Nathrach,” no “de” needed.  Using “seipeal” [sic] and essentially saying “The Snake’s Chapel” sets up a whole new angle on the scenario.. 

Gluais: buaf, toad; earc, lizard; earcán, worm (used specifically for the “blind- or slow-worm”); iomairshrónach, ridge-nosed; péist, worm in general, though in various combinations this word can also mean monster, whale, snake, etc.); sligreach, rattle- (as in “-snake”; as opposed to a gligín, which is for a leanbh),

Nóta maidir le “mamba dubh” agus “mambanna dubha” (black mamba, -s): yes, I’ve gone out on a bit of a limb here for the plural since I find no precedent for it, online or otherwise.  If anyone knows of one, please let us know.  I considered *mambaí” but somehow “mambanna” seems to work better.  “Mambaí” looks too much like a) the place name Mambai in Brazil, b) the place name Mumbai in India, and c) the Irish word “mamaí,” and furthermore, at least to me, “mambaí” has a little too much of a namby-pamby-Bambi cutesy-wootsy feel.  In both cases, the word “mamba” would still be 4th-declension, though.  But you knew that, right? 

Nóta a Dó maidir le “mamba dubh”: Technically, we should probably be saying “mamba béaldubh,” since only its mouth is actually black, but if “mamba noir,” “mamba negra,” and “Schwarze Mamba” all make do (dubh?) without specifying the mouth, we may as well leave well enough alone.  For the drochimeartas focal there, you’d have to say “dubh” as it’s pronounced in the North (like “doo”), not with the more southern/Standard v-final “duv” sound.  But you knew that too, right?

Ag Caint faoi Bhia (hunger, hungry, etc.)

Posted by róislín No Comments
Aug 28 2010

Agus mé ag éisteacht leis an raidió le déanaí, chuala mé clár faoi neamhshlándáil bia.  Bhí an clár i mBéarla ach shocraigh mé ag an am go scríobhfainn blag faoi théarmaí Gaeilge a bhaineanns le bia.  Níl mé ag caint anseo faoi chineálacha áirithe bia mar thrátaí grianthromaithe nó vaiféil, ach go ginearálta, faoi bhia agus ocras agus a leithéid.

While I was listening to the radio recently, I heard a program about food insecurity.  The program was in English but I decided at the time that I would write a blog about Irish terms pertaining to food.  I’m not talking here about specific types of food, like sun-dried tomatoes or waffles, but generally, about food, hunger, and the like. 

So here are the basics:

Tá ocras orm [taw OK-russ OR-um], I’m hungry, lit. hunger is on me.

Hunger, like many other feelings (tart, thirst; brón, sadness, srl.), is “on you” in Irish. 

There is an adjective “ocrach” (hungry), but it is reserved more for saying someone has a “hungry appearance” (cuma ocrach) or for being abstract (na blianta ocracha, the hungry years; talamh ocrach, hungry soil, srl.).  “Ocrasach” is a variation. 

You might be asked, “An bhfuil ocras ort?” (Are you hungry, lit. Is there hunger on you?)

Possible answers could be:

Tá, tá ocras orm: Yes, I’m hungry.

Níl, d’ith mé tamaillín ó shin: No, I ate a little while ago.  But don’t try turning down a cup of tea in Ireland – somehow it’s just not done.  Actually, let me revise that.  Often what’s done is that you politely decline the tea the first time it’s offered.  Then it will probably be offered again, so turn it down again but sounding a little more hesitant.  But you’re still saying you don’t want to put your host to any trouble and your host is insisting it’s no trouble at all at all.  But the tea will probably be offered a third time, at which time most people will acquiesce and accept the tea.  Which everyone knew all along would be the likely outcome.  I know that’s a bit of a scéal thairis (digression), so let’s get back to hunger.    

If you’re really hungry, you could say:

Tá mé stiúgtha leis an ocras [… SHTYOOG-huh lesh un OK-russ], I’m perished with hunger (famished). 

So, “ocras” is the word most commonly used to describe hunger that an individual feels.  Turning to the more somber side of the issue though, and to the reason why “slándáil bia” is such an important topic these days, we have the word “gorta.”  In fact, this word has pretty much entered the vocabulary everyone should know to discuss even the basics of Irish history, when speaking English, since the phrase “An Gorta Mór” (The Great Hunger) appears to have largely replaced the term “potato famine” referring to the 1845 to 1851 time period.  

If one is very new to learning the Irish language, but has read in general on Irish history, one might well have encountered the word “gorta” before learning the word “ocras.”  In that case, it might seem surprising that there’s this shift in vocabulary, that one can’t just take the word “hunger” from the phrase “An Gorta Mór” and drop it into the everyday question, “Are you hungry?”  But this kind of thing happens regularly with languages, one word for one context and another word, meaning almost the same thing, for another context. 

So how else is the word “gorta” used, aside from the phrase “An Gorta Mór”?  Here are some samples:

bliain ghorta, a year of famine

bás den ghorta, death from starvation or famine

There’s also the phrase, “Bhí gorta air” meaning “He was weak with hunger.”  In my experience, however, that’s not used in everyday situations, even when one feels starving simply because it’s been some hours since one’s last meal.  In that case, the phrase with “stiúgtha” would be more likely.  In fact, for any of us in a country or region where “slándáil bia” is not an active concern, I think we tend to use the phrase “starving” even when we’re nowhere near the medical definition.

And having said all of this, yes, there is some overlap.  For example, there are at least two ways to say someone starved to death: “Fuair sé bás den ocras” or “Fuair sé bás den ghorta.”  In both cases, the more literal translation is “he got death from (the) hunger.”

To end on a more upbeat note, there’s also the well-known seanfhocal, “Is maith an t-anlann an t-ocras” (Hunger is the best sauce).  Nice for the thought and nice also as a reminder about inserting the letter “t-“ after the definite article (“an”) when dealing with an “ainmfhocal” which is both “fireannach” (masculine) and “uatha” (singular) and which starts “le guta” (with a vowel).  Had to end on a grammar note, didn’t I?  Bhuel, tá mé ag dul amach le haghaidh bróinse.  Tá ocras orm anois agus is dócha go gcuirfidh sin anlann ar an mbia!

Nóta ginearálta:  It’s at least another blog’s worth, but there are dozens of other terms like “An Gorta Mór” that are used when discussing Irish history (in English) that either have no English equivalent or for which the literal English translation doesn’t have the same nuance as the Irish.  The same is true, of course, for other languages around the world, with terms such as “raj,” “glasnost,” or “wampum.”  In fact, it’s also true for some English terms that might be used in discussing American history in Irish, such as “the Pilgrim Fathers,” for which the Irish term is “na Pilgrim Fathers.”  One could always take “pilgrim” (oilithreach) and “father” (athair) and construct a term, but in some cases, it’s best just to leave the term in its original language.

Lá na nAithreacha – Father’s Day (An Tríú Domhnach i Mí an Mheithimh)

Posted by róislín No Comments
Jun 20 2010

This blog will be a round-up of terms connected to fathers, in honor of Lá na nAithreacha (Father’s Day, lit. Day of the Fathers).  We’ll start with the basics (athair) and the less formal forms “Dad” and “Daddy,” and continue with more specialized phrases, like “godfather” and “Father Christmas.”

athair [AH-hirzh], father

How about the possessive form?  You’ve probably already seen it in the blessing, “In the name of the Father.”  Note that the spelling and pronunciation are slightly changed (-ar, not –air) because it’s sa tuiseal ginideach:

In Ainm an Athar [in AN-yim un AH-hur], In the Name of the Father

More forms of the same word:

an t-athair [un TAH-hirzh], the father

aithreacha [AH-hrzhukh-uh], fathers

na haithreacha [nuh HAH-hrzhukh-uh], the fathers

na n-aithreacha [nuh NAH-hrzhukh-uh], of the fathers

For “Dad” or “Daddy,” there are several choices: Daid, Deaid, Daide, Daidí, and Deaidí.  “Daidín” is also an alternative to “Daid” et. al. but less commonly used.  “Daidín” gives us “Na Daidíní,” a old term for the Cladach fishermen of Contae na Gaillimhe. 

And, of course, there are many related terms, of which just a sample are shown here:

 atharthacht [AH-hur-hukht, note silent t’s] paternity 

 athair altrama, foster-father

 athair céile, father-in-law. 

 athair faoistine [… FWEESH-tchin-yeh], father confessor

 Athair na Nollag OR Daidí na Nollag, Father (or Daddy) Christmas

Aithreacha na hEaglaise [… nuh HAG-lish-eh], the Church Fathers

Aithreacha na Cathrach [… nuh KAH-hrukh, silent “t”], the City Fathers

ionadaí athar or samhail d’athair, father-figure: note the two different ways these are constructed: ionadaí athar is literally “a father’s representative” whereas the “samhail” construction uses the preposition “de” with “athair,” typically contracted to “d’athair.”  So what difference does it make?  Well, using an tuiseal ginideach, for one – “father’s, i.e. of a father” expressed using the genitive case (athar) has no “i” but “of a father” using the preposition “de” keeps the original “i.”  Now isn’t that special?  Or at least interesting to lucht na mionrudaí (the detail-oriented).

athair baistí, godfather (in religious sense), lit. “baptismal father.”  That’s as opposed to Mr. “Lionheart,” úúps, I mean Mr. Corleone, who was a “seanóir,” or to be more specific, “seanóir coirpeachta.”  Of course, given the tight family connections (an understatement), he was probably an “athair baistí” as well.  “Seanóir” has a fascinating and wide range of meanings besides “godfather”: alderman, elder, elder statesman, and senior citizen.  “Coirpeacht” means “crime.”  Makes one wonder — if Mario Puzo had originally written the novel in Irish (yeah, a stretch, I know), what would have the title have been?  The double entendre would have been trickier to construct in Irish, at least with this set of words.  In general, of course, Irish lends itself to all forms of imeartas focal, as much as any other language. 

I’m not going to really tap into the terms for “grandfather” sa bhlag seo, but will when we return to the theme of Grandparents’ Day, in mid-September.  But a quick reminder, in case you really need to know: seanathair, athair mór (especially in Donegal), athair críonna (especially in Munster Irish), and familiarly, “daideo,” “daid mór,” and “daid críonna” (Grand-dad, etc.). 

If there’s not a lot of fuililiú about Father’s Day in Irish, at least not traditionally, we should remember that even in America, the holiday itself is barely céad bliain d’aois.  The date for the first Father’s Day in America is variously reported as 1910, 1916, 1924, 1966, and 1972, depending on how one defines “first” and also on what constitutes a “permanent national observance” as opposed to a “celebration” in general.

Gluais: baistí [BASH-tchee]; Domhnach [DOH-nukh], Sunday; fuililiú, hullaballoo; na Gaillimhe [nuh GAL-yiv-eh] of Galway; samhail [SOW-il, with “ow” like “ouch” or “now”] likeness, semblance; seanóir [SHAN-oh-irzh]; tríú [TRzhEE-oo], third; tuiseal ginideach [TISH-ul GyIN-udj-ukh], genitive case

Lá na Máithreacha vs. Lá na Máthar (“Day of the Mothers” or “of the Mother”)?

Posted by róislín No Comments
May 10 2009

I’ve been following this debate in Irish circles for a good 10 or so years now, probably since the first time I wrote on the topic for my children’s Irish language column in the Philadelphia-based Irish Edition newspaper (www.irishedition.com).   Are we celebrating one mother or all mothers? 

I should probably qualify that to say “i gciorcail Ghael-Mheiriceánacha agus Ghael-Cheanadacha” (in Irish-American and Irish-Canadian circles), since Mother’s Day as such wasn’t traditionally celebrated in Ireland, or Britain for that matter.  Instead, “Mothering Sunday” was, and is, observed on the fourth Sunday of Lent (aka Laetare Sunday).  Mothering Sunday was originally a very religious holiday, for the purpose of visiting one’s mother church (“going a-mothering”) and typically being reunited with one’s mother for the day.  Recently, however, it has become increasingly secularized and more like North American Mother’s Day.  The Irish term for “Mothering Sunday” is surprising elusive, but “Domhnach an Mháithreachais” should do. 

 

The consensus seems to be that the Mother’s Day concept is plural, despite the English grammatical structure, which makes it singular.  These days many people leave out the apostrophe altogether, adding to the confusion, since the phrase “Mothers Day” without the apostrophe isn’t  specifically singular or plural or even possessive. In English, of course, the apostrophe is currently dying a slow death, despite the valiant attempts of organizations like the Apostrophe Protection Society (www.apostrophe.org.uk) and websites like www.apostrophecatastrophes.com, as well as attention from such prominent commentators as Arianna Huffington who wrote “The Apostrophe Crisis: When Perfectly Good Punctuation Goes Bad” (www.huffingtonpost.com/arianna-huffington/the-apostrophe-crisis-wh_b_12628.html).  So, at some point in the future, we’ll just have a blur of events like “Mothers Day,” “Fathers Day,” and “St. Patricks Day.”  The latter will be particularly problematic if it presumes the existence of more than one St. Patrick!  Mother – Mothers, Father — Fathers — OK.  But is there another St. Patrick? 

 

Fortunately, the Irish language will never fall quite into that grammatical trap.  It doesn’t  use the apostrophe to show possession.  So you see, those of you from Ireland, all those years of studying the tuiseal ginideach (genitive case) are of some benefit!  It’s true that Irish has some complicated use of apostrophes, including indicating the real colloquial pronunciation of phrases like “fear an phoist” (the postman, pronounced fear a’ phoist).  Bhuel, more on na hapastrófa and an tuiseal ginideach later but that Á.B.E. (ábhar blag eile) will have to wait.  

 

Back to Mother’s Day itself.  “Lá na Máithreacha” seems to be favored somewhat over “Lá na Máthar,” to judge by some recent online searching.  As I mentioned, there’s not much precedent for either of these phrases in older Irish sources, since the day was not traditionally observed in Ireland under the name “Mother’s Day.”  

 

Conveniently, this topic has also introduced some of the irregularities of the word “máthair.”  It’s an irregular noun, with the following forms:

 

máthar: of a mother (note the “i” has been dropped at the end – that shows that this form is possessive).  Example: gach mac máthar, every mother’s son 

 

na máthar: of the mother.  Ex.: Sláinte na máthar, the health of the mother. 

 

máithreacha: mothers,  Ex. ár máithreacha romhainn, our mothers before us

 

Based on this, can you guess the forms for “athair” (father)?  It’s irregular in a similar way to “máthair.”  How would you suppose we’d say “Father’s Day”?   Or “Grandpar­ents Day,” which, by the way, is officially gan apastróf (apostrophe-less) according to its creator’s website (www.grandparents-day.com).

 

However you celebrate the day, bain sult as (enjoy it) – bhur mblagálaí — Róislín

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