When you write an occasional column, you think about words. I like words. I try to find the right ones whether I’m talking or writing. Sometimes I succeed.

In my last piece, there was this line. “It is fast time our nation binds our wounds and heals.” The day it came out, a friend said there was a misprint. She thought it was supposed to be “It is past time.”

No, I meant “It is fast time.” The nearest equivalent to saying, “It is fast time for something to happen” is “It is high time for that to happen.” In other words, it is due. That is slightly different than “past time.”

My use of that led to a lengthy discussion between some friends. Turns out, many weren’t familiar with that phrase. Thankfully, a couple knew what I meant, so I didn’t have to wonder if I was nuts.

Someone asked if I was trying to write above my readers. There are times I want to use a word that might be perfect but wouldn’t be known by most. I was going to use “desultory” a while ago. I decided that I would be like an uppity guy with a college degree showing off his vocabulary.

“It is fast time” just came to me as I wrote. Honestly, I wasn’t trying to be a word snob.

I said before, I like words. There are times when words don’t like me. Sometimes when I write, words flow from the ether to my brain to my fingers on the keyboard. Other times, words are like juggling bricks in the air and trying to catch the right one before it hits me on the head.

Most of the time we don’t think about the words we use to interact with those around us. It’s a gift when conversation flows effortlessly. That isn’t true for all. Shyness can make finding words difficult. So are tough situations. I think of being with someone who has lost a loved one. Choosing words hard.

Words really are the ties that bind us. Each of us goes about our lives in these bodies that nature gave us. Then we encounter another. There can be touch: a handshake, a hug, a squeeze of a shoulder. Facial expressions can communicate lots.

But most of the connection between us is with words. Sometimes that can be limiting. Sometimes there aren’t perfect words. But mostly we find them. We play the cards we’re dealt.

Google says the average adult knows 40,000 words. I’m not sure about that. I can only think of a couple of hundred right now.

Wait. I forgot desultory.

One of the joys of parenting was observing our kids develop language. From babbling to “mama” to talking to their toys, the growth is remarkable in a few years. Pronunciation and word order are flawed at first and gradually refined. Good parenting means talking endlessly to your little one. Reading aloud is a great tool. You are sharing the gift of words with them.

I have thought about the beginning of language. Way back in our species’ development, we were all like infants who didn’t know any words. There were no grownups to teach us. Over generations, grunts, hoots, and other sounds from our throat took on meaning.

Etymology is the study of the origin of words. I think I could have enjoyed a career as an etymologist. I’m not sure there’s much money in that.

By the way, “Desultory originates from the Latin d�”sultōrius, meaning “relating to a leaper,” which described Roman circus riders who jumped from one galloping horse to another. It combines de- (“down”) and salire (“to jump”), metaphorically evolving from literal, quick jumping to mean jumping between topics, random, or unmethodical behavior by the 1740s.”

See! I love that stuff.

The Tower of Babel reminds us that we shouldn’t take this talking thing for granted. In the Book of Genesis, Babylon was a great city, a place where all mankind’s achievements were gathered. Among those was language which they could use to work together to accomplish things.

As our species sometimes does, they become quite satisfied with themselves. And proud. That pride caused them to build a great tower to reach the heavens, so they could be like God. God’s punishment was to afflict them with different words. They could no longer communicate with each other, putting an end to their hubris and great plans.

Legend has it that was the origin of languages, and why there are so many of them. Seven thousand according to linguists. I only know one. Some days, I’m not even sure about that one.

Most of the time, our use of words is practical. We talk to each other to facilitate things in our home or workplace. Who’s going to pick up the kids? There’s a roast in the oven.

Words can be kind and unkind. Hopefully, we will use more of the former than the latter. Words can also be funny and witty and even beautiful. They might not have any practical function at all.

Sometimes words are arranged in ways that we call poetry. Most of us are familiar with poetry when it is in a song. But there is also written poetry. Poetry is always out there on the fringes of reading and writing. But after we take Poetry Class in high school, it stays on the periphery.

A friend, Gigi, is a reader of poetry, and occasionally shares poems with me. Detecting a flicker of interest, she invited me to be part of monthly poetry group that meets at the New Ulm Library. I’m enjoying that.

Long, long ago, in a galaxy far away, I read and even wrote poetry in my college years. It’s a kick to go back there in my head.

Poetry takes words and arranges them in a way that they are charged and infused with meaning. A good poem uses words like a good painting uses colors.

One of these times, maybe I’ll write a poem where this column goes. I better check with my editors. Clay, Mike, are you guys OK with that?

— Randy Krzmarzick farms on the home place west of Sleepy Eye, where he lives with his wife, Pam.