Frick is Fine

and unrelated to modern slang abbreviations

I imagine myself at this age when I “invented” the word in this story.

Our Chevrolet station wagon could squeeze all 6 of us in, and comfortably enough for a road trip although I don't remember those happening too often. Of course seat belts weren't much of a thing, and I certainly wasn't ever strapped into a car seat. Not then. I guess we lived most of our childhoods on the brink of a wide variety of disasters: things we didn't know could happen, and many we didn't know we could prevent.

My sisters and I are pretty close to the same ages, close as could be anyway as my mother gave birth to all of us in 3 1/2 years. I was the youngest and therefore had become accustomed to sitting at the way-back of the station wagon, the seat pointing out toward the back of the vehicle. Honestly, I thought it was cool taking in the whole wide world from the back seat, like the ground beneath me was being spontaneously created at the exact moment I passed over it. From my point of view, all-that-existed was always rocketing at light speed away from me, an unfocused blur, just out of reach.

We didn't always have music playing, and there were certainly no podcasts or audiobooks. We played games, like shouting and naming which state was written on license plates from all over the country. Our eyes tired playing, "I spy with my little eye," and most memorably, our competitive urges came out full force with this one, very challenging, highly cerebral game called, Stinky Pinky. Maybe the kids out there are still playing this one; I haven't thought to ask.

The game is a rhyming game, and the objective is to come up with a two-syllable rhyme like lazy daisy and create a clue so everyone can try guess the rhyme.

Lazy daisy would be a “stinky pinky,” - 2 syllables, 2 words - and the clue might be unmotivated flower.

Given one's knowledge of flowers, and a reasonable working definition of the word unmotivated, one could arrive at this pretty quickly. Lazy Daisy. Simple.

If you thought of more complex rhymes, and wanted to stump your opponents, you could use an array of syllabic concoctions: Stink Pink, Stinky Pinky, Stinkety Pinkety. And so on. A primer:

Neither critical thinking nor extensive use of cleverly arranged vocabulary would have been in my wheelhouse at the time. But I sure wanted to get in the game, so I gave it my best shot. Usually, when the winning answer was called out, I had barely gotten started working through possibilities.

On one road trip, as I was sitting on the way-back on my knees, facing front and determined to win at least one round, I heard my sister say, "The clue is undisciplined offspring. It's a Stink Pink". (The clue was manufactured by my super-smart eldest sister Cherry).

Imagine a high-pressure drum roll, my sisters shouting possible answers out, and 7 or 8 year old me thinking as fast as I can, which for me, will always end up messy. With sweat beads prickling on my forehead, I speak the minute an idea hits me.

"Frick kid!"

Rim shot.

My answer was instantly followed by muted giggling, and then loud bursts of cachinnation, firm evidence that I had missed by a mile. A minute must have passed before any words were spoken, just laughter. Eventually, someone asked me the meaning of the word, frick. Melting, I think I said, I don't know.

But I kept smiling, trying to sell it.

Memories are often incomplete. We hold on to the emotionally loaded memories more than the banal, everyday moments that come and go without making an indelible mark. I remember the one time I jumped off the top of a small slide in our side yard hoping that if I flapped my wings hard enough, I could catch a breeze and fly. Or at least flutter down softly. Sadly, gravity had its way with me, and it wasn't until I hit solid ground that I realized my tongue had been outside of my mouth and I bit right through it. I remember that vividly, as I remember drinking my food from a straw afterward for a solid week, yet have absolutely no recollection of all this times I slid down that slide the way it was intended.

The Stinky Pinky memory stays with me, but it's not exactly detailed; I just remember the way it felt. Sure, I was embarrassed. It wasn't shame inducing, just...cringey. (If I'm honest, I think I had almost convinced myself that everyone ELSE in the car was wrong.) Mostly, I felt proud of myself that I got in the game, and I enjoyed all of the interaction that came from just being a participant. In a way, this isn't that far from how I feel every day: a little embarrassed like I'm getting it wrong, but proud of myself for being a participant.

And here's the thing, looking through the eyes of someone who's made a lot of mistakes, and plenty of definitively bad guesses: I don't think I failed at Stinky Pinky, and here are my reasons.

*I was little, and I took a risk. I took my shot, and it showed courage.

*Also, I was being creative. I didn't expect anyone to give me the perfect answer, so I made one up. And, not for nothing, the word frick is pretty inventive. There are plenty of jobs out there that will pay you the big bucks for thinking outside the box.

*And by the way, it goes without saying that “frick kid” employs a perfectly acceptable internal rhyme. An internal rhyme isn't rudimentary; to some it would be considered advanced. I was being clever. I don't remember anyone reading me explicit rules explaining which types of rhyme would be acceptable. Yes, it was commonly understood that the rhyme would need to include an end rhyme. But my answer was not common, so the joke's on them.

*I dealt with being laughed at in a pretty sanguine tone, and I believe that tone under pressure should be noted.

*And finally, why can't "frick" be a word, anyway? There were 200 words added to the English lexicon in 2023; I wonder if my anyone would have laughed three years ago if I had created a Stinky Pinky using the words, "rewild," or "doomscroll,"currently new to the lexicon? Some words are popular and quite useful long before they land in Webster's Unabridged Dictionary.

Why can't “frick” stand for "undisciplined"? I think it sounds sassy on its face, and the letters used, they're brash, blunted. Like a slap.

So, I’ll summarize: the "right" answer to the undisciplined offspring clue was "wild child." But Frick is fine.