On a sweltering day in August three years ago, The Associated Press filed a sad story from Daytona Beach, Fla. A 5-month-old boy had died “when relatives forgottenly left him inside a car while the temperature approached 120 degrees.”

Forgottenly? It isn’t acceptable yet, but surely the world of lexicography should open its doors and let the adverb in. Granted, it does not fall trippingly on the tongue, but it precisely identifies a failing that differs significantly from “accidentally” or “mistakenly.” True, Webster’s defines “accidental” as something that happens “without intent or through carelessness and often with unfortunate results,” but there’s a distinction. Last month we read of a motorist in Florida who filled his gas tank and drove away with the hose still attached. He did this accidentally, yes, but more precisely he did this forgottenly. It is something to remember.

Let me nominate another coinage for membership in the ranks of lexicographic respectability: lunaversary. Regularly we read of newlyweds who mark their “six-month anniversary.” We read it, and we weep – not for the happy couple, but for the debasement of a noble tongue.

The noun “anniversary” obviously is rooted in the Latin word for “year,” as in Queen Elizabeth’s lament for the “annus horribilis” when the prince and Diana divorced. A decent respect for the old ways should preserve “anniversary” in its pristine meaning of yearly. The American Heritage dictionary has it right: “the annually recurring date of a past event.” Random House concurs. Webster’s New World concurs. Encarta concurs. Oxford concurs. Everybody is in step on this one except the free spirits at Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary of English Usage. Without the slightest blush, apology or sigh, they cite “a six-month anniversary” as acceptable usage. Bah! And humbug, too!

Yes, a noun is needed to define recurring periods that are measured in months. Some years ago a pedant ventured “mensaversary,” but it never caught on – and “lunaversary” is prettier. It has a respectable pedigree in “lunar month,” but in the nuptial context it will have to overcome the natural association with “lunacy” and “lunatic.” Let us persevere.

A few other oddball words recently surfaced in a file marked “coinages”:

Last year USA Today carried an ad for a product called Enduralex. It is no mere vitamin pill. It includes three special ingredients that will improve “proper sexual performancy.” If I am not mistaken, that pseudonoun is illegal in 32 states, Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands.

Two years ago, The Associated Press filed a story from Jackson, Miss., about the trial and conviction of a white supremacist. The fellow, now 74, had participated in the murder of a black man in 1966. Prosecutor Jack Lacy explained the motivation: “The victim had the affrontage to have skin that was not the same color as the defendant’s.” Obviously, Lacy was nouning a verb – a familiar form of linguistic parthenogenesis – but I’m doubtful that it works here. Somehow, “affrontage” suggests a dowager chaperone. I would let this one age a while longer.

In November 2003, the San Francisco Chronicle carried a book review of “Escape From Slavery” by Francis Bok. Said critic Peter Lewis: “The sheer banality of the evil visited upon Bok – its grotesque everydayness – has the depth and carry of something horribly real.” Reader Jeanne L. Schreiber of San Jose asked about “carry.” It is indeed a noun in good favor. It defines a gun’s range, a fullback’s rush and the portage of a boat from one stream to another. I never before saw “carry” used as Lewis used it, but here it worked perfectly. Let us carry on!

James Kilpatrick is a syndicated columnist.