I first encountered the word as a word-unto-itself because it is written in bold print at the top of page 222 in the Webster’s New Dictionary and Thesaurus, Concise Edition my mom bought for me to take to college. The idea of a jester’s hat wasn’t new to me, but the idea of the word, all the letters squished together into one thing, was.
The definition seemed maybe a little disappointing at first:
[fōōlz’kap] n a size of writing paper 13 by 16 inches, in the US, originally bearing the watermark of a fool’s cap and bells.
Maybe it’s because I keep running into it, flipping through the fs in search of definitions and useful/beautiful/magical new words, but it turned out to be a word that captured me fully, after all.
Because what would it be like if every page that I put words to bore that mark, reminding me of the possible foolishness of my words?
There is always the danger that what I am mistaking for art or communication is really my pride, my immaturity, my blindness—my complete foolishness, in fact—screaming from the page.
Would I put words on a page like that more carefully? Would the mark serve as a disclaimer to readers, warning of the danger in thinking words could pose as truth—that they could adequately express something as elusive as a thought or feeling? Would it serve as a sort of visual caveat lector—“let the reader beware?”
It is something good to remember—the possibility that I am really only a fool trying to dress up as something I’m not.
There’s another aspect though, to a piece of paper like this, that captures my imagination.
Because what would it be like if every page that I put words to bore this mark, reminding me that there is more than one way to speak the truth?
Sometimes it’s the one dressed as a fool who can say the things that otherwise might not get said: the child who doesn’t know any better, the entertainer who’s there to console, the naïve younger son.
If I had that image right there to remind me, would the words come out more boldly? Would I worry so much about what others thought? Would I have more confidence that true things could speak out of a story, out of something beautiful or humorous—that maybe they had the power to penetrate more deeply that way?
It is something good to remember—the possibility that I might be able to say more dressed as a fool.
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