When sister Jan e-mailed asking, “Just wondering your opinion on the ‘dilemma vs. dilemna’ dilemna?” the use of dilemna at the end of her query spelled with the letter N ought to’ve given me a hint about her opinion.

Opinionated as usual, I leaped in with both feet. I said I’d never heard nor read dilemma spelled with an N, I always spell it with two M’s and thought everybody did.

A perfectionist Virgo, Jan’s much less inclined to overlook stuff that annoys her whereas I’ve developed duck feathers, but we’re both researchers and will worry a subject to the end. I immediately checked my handy DK Revised Updated Illustrated Oxford Dictionary .  It listed dilemma with two M’s.

I inquired where she’d come across it spelled that way, asking if people who spell it with an N pronounce it differently.  She said when her hubby Kevin said he’d never heard of dilemna -- and he’s a brainiac -- she got curious because she was taught to spell it with an N.

Words do change and evolve. I remember spelling color as colour, learning later that was the English influence, quite un-American as it were. Therefore, I checked an old 1914 Funk & Wagnalls Comprehensive Standard Dictionary but even way back then the word had two M’s; no N’s.

When Jan and I googled the N-word, as opposed to the double M-word, it was everywhere.

Headlines from major newspapers, the New York Times, CNN,  in article after article. Apparently a whole generation of folks were taught, as Jan was, to spell dilemma as dilemna. Go figure.

The word’s derived from the Greek di  (twice/ two) and lemma  (assumption/ argument). It means a choice between two or more unfavorable alternatives. As a note, the alternatives are sometimes called the horns of the dilemma. In other words, it means being caught between the two horns of an argument, unable to decide on one or the other. Sorta like a rock and a hard place. Coincidentally, I’m reading, as Jan and I discuss this word, The Rhino With Glue-on Shoes” and one chapter’s titled On the Horn of a Dilemma.

We’ve all unconsciously typed incorrect spellings of like-words. In the August Louisiana Road Trips magazine a writer reminiscing about days on the milk-farm wrote ‘utter’ for ‘udder.’ Folks often refer to having their puppy ‘spaded’ instead of ‘spayed.’ Once I wrote ‘profit’ when I meant ‘prophet.’ But I forgave myself since I’m a bookkeeper 90 percent of the time -- an ingrained mathematical error.

But, this wasn’t typing fingers leaving the mind behind because it isn’t just Jan who learned this odd spelling. Like column, solemn, Autumn and hymn with silent M-N combos, I’d consider, heaven forbid, she’s miss-remembering, but, it’s too vast for that to be the case.

Could it be teachers manuals and spelling books with this misspelling were used during Jan’s formative years, thus accounting for why so many people came away swearing they’d learned this mysterious spelling in school? And indeed, where else would they have learned it?

All I’ve gotta say is, getting to the bottom of it poses quite a dilemma.

How do you spell it?