Marcie Sundaram

@alliterative.bsky.social

1778 Followers 259 Following

Interdisciplinarian, historical linguist, philologist, medievalist; I make videos & podcasts about words, history, and literature. Married to @AvenSarah. She/her

The climate change predictions are in and the message is clear: we need to put a lid on our carbon emissions if we want to survive. The word climate comes ultimately from Greek klima “region, zone”, literally “an inclination, slope” in reference to the “slope of the earth from equator to pole”, since ancient geographers divided the earth into zones based on the angle of sun on the slope of the earth’s surface and the length of daylight. Over time, as the word was borrowed into Latin as clima “region; slope of the earth”, then into Old French as climat “region, part of the earth”, and finally into English, the sense gradually shifted to “a distinct region of the earth’s surface considered with respect to weather” and “combined results of weather associated with a region, characteristic condition of a country or region with reference to the variation of heat, cold, rainfall, wind, etc.”. Greek klima can be traced back to *kli-mn- a suffixed form of the Proto-Indo-European root *klei- “to lean”, which also came into Proto-Germanic, as a result of Grimm’s Law, as *hlid- which means literally “that which bends over” and thus “cover” which became Old English hlid “cover” and eventually Modern English lid. So no matter which way you lean (also from the same root), you should be inclined (also from the same root) to do something about climate change now.
The FIFA World cup is soon coming to an end, and the remaining teams are in hot pursuit of soccer glory, and etymologically that makes sense. The word soccer was originally British university slang, shortened from Assoc., an abbreviation of the word association from the term Association football, so called because it was played according to the rules of the Football Association, distinguishing it from the game Rugby football (which was so named after Rugby School in Warwickshire where during a football game in 1823 a boy named William Webb Ellis picked up the ball and ran with it). The full term Association football can still be seen in the acronym FIFA, standing for the French name Fédération Internationale de Football Association meaning “International Association Football Federation”. The -er ending on the word soccer is a common jocular speech pattern in British upper-class schoolboy and university slang, as in the parallel words footer for “football”, rugger for “rugby”, brekker or brekkers for “breakfast”, preggers for “pregnant”, and so forth. The word association comes from Medieval Latin associatio “association (of persons), enlistment, fellowship, company”, from the past participle of associare “to join or unit with”, made up from the prefix ad- “to” + sociare “to join together, combine, unite, associate, hold in common, share”, from the noun socius “companion, ally”, ultimately traceable back to *sokw-yo- the suffixed o-grade form from the root *sekw- “to follow”. This root also led to the Latin verb sequi “to follow”, which when combined with the prefix pro- “forward” led to the verb prosequi “to follow, accompany, attend, follow after, escort”, which became Old French porsivre “to chase, pursue, follow; continue, carry on” and the noun form porsuite, leading to English pursuit.
A heat dome is caused by high pressure in the atmosphere pushing the air down and trapping the heat like a lid, and if people get too hot in these conditions it can be very dangerous. It’s probably obvious that heat and hot are related, from Old English hætu and hat respectively, from Proto-Germanic *haiti- and *haita-, from the extended form *kaid- of the Proto-Indo-European root *kai- “heat”. As for dome, it entered English in the 1650s from French dome “a town-house; a dome, a cupola", either from Italian duomo “house, house of God, high cupola, dome” (as a feature of Italian cathedrals as opposed to the arches of Gothic-style cathedrals), from Latin domus “house”, and/or from Greek doma “a house, housetop” (especially in reference to a style of roof from the east), related to domos “house”, in either case traceable ultimately to the PIE root *dem- “house, household”. From Latin domus also comes dominus “lord, master (of a household)”, which produced Vulgar Latin *dominarium “power of a lord”, then Old French dongier and dangier “power, power to harm, mastery, authority, control”, coming into English as danger in the 13th century. Heat domes are associated with climate change and that’s the real danger.
The word queer in reference to homosexuality was originally used as a slur, though more recently, at least for some, the word has been reclaimed to refer to non-traditional ideas of sexuality and gender as a conscious thwarting of the bigotry with which it had been used. Queer comes into English with the original sense of “strange, peculiar, odd, eccentric” from Middle Low German dwer “oblique”, from Proto-Germanic *thwerh- “twisted, oblique”, ultimately from the Proto-Indo-European root *terkw- “to twist”. Germanic *therh- also came into Old Norse as þverr “transverse” and the adverb þvert “across”, which was borrowed into English as both the adverb and verb thwart with the original literal sense of “to move or pass across”, soon developing the modern sense from the metaphorical notion of “crossing someone”.
2 guitarists, a bass player, and a drummer playing music on stage with purple and pink stage lights
It’s hard to thoroughly describe the thrill transgender people feel when they finally get to live authentically as who they are, so why not show trans people some kindness and support, at least for etymology’s sake! The prefix trans- comes from the Latin preposition trans meaning “across, over, beyond” from the Proto-Indo-European root *terə- “cross over, pass through, overcome” also the source of English through and thorough (in the sense of “through and through”) via Proto-Germanic *thurx and Old English þurh “through”, and is used in the word transgender to refer to someone whose gender identity does not correspond with the gender assigned to them at birth or the conventional societal notions of binary gender. Old English þurh also produced the noun þyrel “hole” — a nasþyrl or nostril being literally a “nose-hole” — and the verb þyrlian “perforate, pierce”, becoming Middle English thirlen, and undergoing metathesis to finally become thrill. And the word gender, essentially meaning “kind, sort, class”, comes from Latin genus “family, birth, race”, ultimately traceable back to PIE *genə- “to give birth”, which also produced Old English gecynd “kind, nature, race” and Modern English kind, both in the sense “class, sort, variety” and “benign, compassionate” from the notion of “with natural feelings” or “well-disposed by nature”.
The initialism LGBTQ+ (and its variants) reflects the different segments of a broad community of sexual and gender minorities, including lesbian, gay, bisexual, and queer individuals (with the Q also taken to represent questioning individuals), and the + symbol representing the balance of other identities and orientations not covered in the other five letters. Bisexuality is itself an umbrella term that at its broadest could perhaps be described as “having sexual and/or romantic attraction to more than one gender”, though many different variations or identities are embraced by members of the bisexual community. The prefix bi- meaning “two, having two, twice, double, doubly, twofold, once every two” comes from Latin bi- “twice, double” the combining form of Latin bis “twice, at two times, on two occasions”, ultimately traceable back to Proto-Indo-European *dwis- the adverbial form of the root *dwo- “two”, with the consonant cluster *dw becoming Latin /b/ at the beginning of words. When this Latin prefix is combined with the word lanx “dish” it produced bilanx in the expression (libra) bilanx “scale having two pans”, which eventually became Old French and then English balance “balance, scales for weighing” also used in a figurative sense. The words sexual and sex come from Latin sexualis “of or belonging to sex, relating to categorization by sex” and sexus “a sex”, which is uncertain origin, but is usually taken as being related to the verb secare “to cut, cut off, cut up, reap, carve” in the sense of a division (thus ultimately coming from the PIE root *sek- “to cut”). Latin secare also produced the noun segmentum which was borrowed into English as segment.
Although the etymology of the word gay may be uncertain and vague, taking more than a winking glance at its history gives some insight into this sometimes-pejorative and sometimes-reclaimed word. What’s certain is that gay came into Middle English from Old French gai, meaning “joyful, happy; pleasant, agreeably charming” as well as “high-spirited; frivolous, fickle; libertine”, but its deeper etymology is debated. Some make a connection with a Germanic root meaning “sudden, impetuous”, whereas others connect it with Latin gaudium “joy”, but the etymon championed by esteemed etymologist Anatoly Liberman, Latin vagus “wandering, rambling; inconstant” and its Italian derivative vago meaning both “wandering, roaming” and “pleasant, agreeable”, is perhaps the best fit. This would make it cognate with other English derivatives of Latin vagus, such as vague, vagrant, and extravagant, that have the “wandering” sense at their core, but gay might have developed both pejorative senses “libertine; frivolous” and positive senses “merry, vivacious” from the sense of “free from restraint”, and these two senses, one becoming standard the other slang, may have played into the later development of the word, including the one now most common, “homosexual”. Beyond Latin vagus, the etymology is even less certain, but a Proto-Indo-European root *Huog-o- with connections to Old Norse vakka “to stray, hover about” and Old English wincian “to blink, wink” (giving us Modern English wink) has been suggested.
June is Pride Month, a time for members of the LGBTQ+ community to represent, and that makes good etymological sense. The noun pride came from the adjective proud, Old English pryto and prud respectively, borrowed from Old French prud or prouz “brave, valiant”, from Late Latin prode “advantageous, profitable, from the Latin verb prodesse “to be useful”. The sense of “having a high opinion of oneself” developed later and may have come from the English’s post-conquest views of the Norman knights who called themselves proud in the “brave, valiant” sense. Latin prodesse is made up of the prefix prod-, a variant that comes before vowels of pro “before, for, instead of”, ultimately from the Proto-Indo-European root *per- “forward, in front of, before, toward”, and esse “to be”, from the PIE root *es- “to be”. These same two roots came into Latin, and thereby English, in another way: *per- also produced Latin prae “before, in front” to form the word praeesse “to be before, be set over, preside over, rule”, and from the present participle of this verb comes praesens “at hand, in sight, present” (from which we get English present), which was further transformed into the verb praesentare “to present”, which when combined with the prefix re- (which means “back, again” but here is likely just an intensifying prefix) produced Latin repraesentare “to make present, show, exhibit, display”, Old French representer “to present, show, portray”, and English represent.
The cancellation of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert because of his unwillingness to be circumscribed by CBS’s attempts to placate a deranged President has caused a media circus, and etymologically that’s fitting. Cancel originally meant “to cross something out”, as you might cross out a word with lines, from Latin cancellare “to make a lattice”, which is closely related to Latin carcer “prison” from which we get English incarcerate. Though its etymology is uncertain, most likely it comes from Proto-Indo-European *krkr- “circular” from the idea of “an enclosure”, which would be a reduplicated form of the PIE root *(s)ker- “to turn, bend”. This root also came into Greek as kirkos “circle, ring” and was borrowed into Latin as circus (originally referring to the circular arena used for chariot races before being borrowed into English), and also becoming Latin circum “around”, which has become a prefix in a number of words such as circumscribe, literally “to write around”, but from the idea of “drawing a circle around” has come to mean “to confine, restrain”. This same root also came into Proto-Germanic as *hringaz “circle, ring” (the direct source of Old English hring “ring” and Modern English ring), and was borrowed into Old French through Frankish as reng “line, row”, producing the Old French verb rengier “to put into line”, which was then combined with the Latin-derived prefix des- “do the opposite of” to form Old French desrengier “disarrange, throw into disorder” and Modern French déranger, and borrowed into English in 1776, with the mental sense of “disorder the mind” by around 1790. All of this could have been avoided if said President had been properly incarcerated in the first place.
What’s the connection between a tulip and a turban? Etymology! Turban ultimately comes from the Persian word dulband “turban” which became pronounced tulbant in Turkish, and passed from there into various European languages such as Italian turbante, Spanish turbante, and Portuguese turbante. It’s unclear exactly when and where tul- became tur- (perhaps in South-West India or in Portuguese), but it was borrowed into English in the 1560s from French turbant. Turkish tulbant, which meant both “turban” and also “gauze, muslin”, was also borrowed into Dutch as tulpe and thence into English in the 1570s as tulip to refer to the tulip flower, thought to resemble a turban, which came into the Netherlands via Turkey, and in turn the Dutch became quite famous for them, creating a huge market bubble for the status-symbol flowers. After Canada hosted the Dutch royal family in exile during WWII, a grateful Netherlands began sending tulip bulbs to Canada annually for the Canadian Tulip Festival in Ottawa celebrating the relationship between the two countries.
Every fresh example of some large institution being hit by a ransomware attack prompts a new round of people taking peremptory measures to protect their data, and that’s etymologically appropriate. The second part of the word ransomware is formed on the model of the words software and hardware, ware meaning “manufactured goods, goods for sale”, coming from Old English waru which could mean both “article of merchandise” and also “protection, guard” (related to beware), so it probably originally had the basic sense of an “object of care, that which is kept in custody”, ultimately traceable back to the Proto-Indo-European root *wer- “perceive, watch out for”. The word ransom comes into English from Old French ranson “ransom, redemption”, from Latin redemptio “a redeeming”, formed from the verb redimere “to redeem, buy back”, made up from the prefix red- “back” + emere “to take, buy, gain, procure”, traceable back to the PIE root *em- “to take, distribute”. Latin emere can be combined with other prefixes too, such as ex- “out of” producing eximere “remove, release, make an exception of” and exemplum “a sample, pattern, a warning example” giving us English example, pro- “forward” producing promere “to bring forth” with its past participle promptus giving us English prompt, and per- “thoroughly” producing perimpere “destroy, cut off” and peremptor “destroyer” giving us English peremptory.
Flowerbed of yellow and pink tulips with the labels Yellow Parrot and Pink Parrot
Three people posed in front of a flowerbed filled with tulips of various colours
Ever wondered why C-3PO is called a protocol droid? Protocol entered English with the sense “prologue or prefatory material” through Middle French and Medieval Latin from Greek protokollon “first sheet glued onto a roll of papyrus” on which was written such things as the manufacturer’s mark, date, and contents, from protos “first” + kolla “glue”. The sense of protocol later shifted to “official account or record” to “official record of a diplomatic negotiation” to “diplomatic document” and finally to “diplomatic etiquette” (part of C-3PO’s job as a translator). The only other English word that comes from Greek kolla is colloid which is used to describe a certain type of mixture meaning literally “of the nature or appearance of glue”. Milk is an example of a colloid. The suffix -oid “like, having the form of” comes from Greek eidos “form” and also appears in the word android, literally “in the form of a man”, which in Star Wars is shortened simply to droid.
Bronze sundial set in rock on the ground, somewhat damp from the rain
Solidarity will save the day! Solidarity (and solid) come from Latin solidus “solid, whole” which can be traced back to the Proto-Indo-European root *sol- “whole”. This also leads to the Latin word salvus “safe, healthy” which ultimately gives us the words safe and save.
After Trump made a blasphemous post depicting himself as Jesus, even some of his supporters aren’t buying the official excuse that it was simply a banal misunderstanding, instead blaming him for making a malicious dig at the Pope who criticized him, and etymologically that’s appropriate. Blasphemy came into English in the early 13th c. from Old French blasfemie “blasphemy”, through Late Latin blasphemia, ultimately from Greek blasphemia “profane speech; slander”, from the verb form blasphemein “to speak profanities; to slander; to speak impiously”. The second element there, Greek pheme “utterance”, can be traced back to the Proto-Indo-European root *bha- “to speak”, which also came into the Germanic branch producing Proto-Germanic *bannan “to speak publicly (used of particular kinds of proclamation in feudal or prefeudal custom; ‘to proclaim under penalty, summon to the levy, declare outlaw’)”, which not only produced Old English bannan and Modern English ban, but was also borrowed into Old French as ban “feudal jurisdiction, summons to military service, proclamation” and banel “communal”, becoming Modern French banal “belonging to a manor; common, hackneyed, commonplace” and borrowed into English in the 1840s. The origin of the first element of blasphemy is uncertain, but the entire word has been plausibly reconstructed as PIE *mls-bha-mo- “speaking evil” with *ml-s- “evil” representing a suffixed zero-grade form of the root *mel- “false, bad, wrong”, which also produced the Latin adjective malus “bad” and the noun form malitia “ill-will, spite, malice”, becoming Old French and later English malice. Blaspheme and blame are in fact basically the same word, with Late Latin blasphemare “to blaspheme, to speak lightly or amiss of God or sacred things” producing the Vulgar Latin form blastemare, which became Old French blasmer “to rebuke, reprimand, condemn, criticize” (with the Modern French form blâmer), borrowed into English as blame.
Everyone seems to be trying to restrict access to the Strait of Hormuz, and etymologically that makes sense. First of all strait and straight are not at all related—a strait is not called that because you go straight through it. Straight meaning “not bent or curved” comes from Old English streht, the past participle of streccan “to stretch” (possibly from the Proto-Indo-European root *strenk- “tight, narrow”). Strait meaning “narrow” as an adjective and “a narrow passage” as a noun came into English in the 14th c. from Anglo-Norman French estreit or estrait, from Old French estroit, ultimately from Latin strictus, the past participle of stringere “to draw tight, bind tight, compress, press together” (traceable back to the Proto-Indo-European root *streig- “to stroke, rub, press”). Latin stringere when combined with the prefix re- “back” produced restringere “to bind back, bind fast, tighten” and the past participle restrictus led to English restrict in the 1530s.
Lunar and moonlight are connected but not in the way you might think. Lunar comes from Latin luna “moon”, from Proto-Indo-European *leuk-sna- a suffixed form of the root *leuk- “light, brightness”. Another suffixed form of this root *leuk-to- passed into Germanic as *leuhtam, giving us Old English leoht and Modern English light.
Box of estradiol transdermal patches
Episode thumbnail with the Endless Knot Podcast logo and text: “Episode 124a: Season 10 Trailer “
Do you think April Fools Day is bollocks? Well, you're right, etymologically speaking! Fool comes from Latin follis “bellows, inflated ball”, since a fool is a kind of puffed up person (think windbag). Follis in turn comes from Proto-Indo-European *bhel- “blow, swell” which has a number of derivatives referring to, um, male swelling, hence bollocks from Old English beallucas “testicles”.
At this time of year we’re all turning to that annoying and sometimes stressful task of doing our taxes, and etymologically that’s appropriate. The verb tax comes from Old French taxer “to impose a tax”, from Latin taxare meaning “to evaluate, estimate, assess, handle” and also “to censure, charge” (and is probably a frequentative form of tangere “to touch”). This verb also led to the Medieval Latin noun taxa, which not only gave us the English noun tax through Old French taxe and Anglo-Norman French tax, but also through metathesis became Vulgar Latin *tasca “a duty, assessment” and Old North French tasque “duty, tax”, entering English in the 14th century with the sense “a quantity of labour imposed as a duty”, gaining its modern sense of “any piece of work that has to be done” by the 1590s.
There’s nothing more Irish than a piña colada, right? Well, probably etymologically speaking anyway. Piña colada means “strained pineapple”, colada being related to colander, and piña referring to the pineapple. Piña and pine come from Latin pinus “pine” possibly from Proto-Indo-European *peie “to be fat, swell” in reference to the pine tree’s sap. This root also leads to Proto-Indo-European *pi-wer- “fertile”, which may then lead to Old Celtic *Iveriu, Old Irish Eriu, and ultimately Irish and Ireland. That Proto-Indo-European root, by the way, also leads to English fat, so don’t have too many piña coladas, as the other main ingredient in them, coconut cream, contains a lot of fat.
War and wurst (as in bratwurst and liverwurst) both come from the Proto-Indo-European root *wers- meaning “to confuse, mix up”. Wurst, which means “sausage” in German, comes from the idea of “mixture”, and war comes from the sense “to bring into confusion” and thus “strife”. This root also gives us the words worse and guerrilla. The phrase Sausage War is sometimes used to refer to an odd episode during the 1939-1940 Winter War between the Soviet Union and Finland in which a Soviet attack was crucially delayed when the undernourished Red Army stopped to eat sausage soup left behind by Finnish cooks allowing Finnish reinforcements to arrive.
Outcropping of rock by the lake with trees in northern Ontario
Kash Patel’s impromptu trip to celebrate with the US men’s hockey team at the Olympics set a poor example as Director of the FBI when an important kidnapping and ransom case should have been his primary responsibility, and etymologically that’s fitting. The word example came into English from Old French essemple “sample, model, example, precedent, cautionary tale”, with its spelling re-Latinized from the original Latin exemplum “a sample, specimen; a copy, transcript”, literally meaning “that which is taken out”, from the verb eximere “to take out, take away, remove”, made up of the prefix ex- “out” + emere “to buy, purchase” (from the Proto-Indo-European root *em- “to take”). When this Latin verb is instead combined with the prefix pro- “before, forward, for” we get promere “to take out, give out, bring forth, produce”, with its past participle promptus producing the noun promptus “readiness, facility” and the phrase in promptu “in readiness”, becoming the French and then English word impromptu in the 17th c. When this same Latin verb is combined with yet another prefix, re(d)- “back”, we get redimere “to buy back, repurchase, redeem” and its noun form redemptio “a buying back, releasing, ransoming, redemption”, which both came into English as redemption and transformed in Old French to ranson “ransom, redemption”, borrowed into English and eventually becoming ransom. But I guess that’s what happens when you have unqualified and contemptible government officials, demonstrating that famous Latin proverb caveat emptor “let the buyer beware”.
A momentary lapse in judgment when you’re in a valley in avalanche country can be a disaster, and that’s etymologically apt. The word avalanche was borrowed from French, from avalantze “descent” in the Romansch language of Switzerland, from lavantse in the Savoy dialect near the Italian border in the western Alps. The first part comes from French avaler “to descend”, from the phrase à val “to the valley”, in Latin ad vallem, from Latin vallis “valley”, which also came into English through French as valley. The second part of avalanche probably comes ultimately from Latin labi “to slip, slide”, which in its past participle form lapsus also came into English as lapse.
A luge is a kind of sled that slides down a track, and etymologically this may make sense. Sled and slide come from the Proto-Indo-European root *sleidh- “to slip, slide”, slide coming into English through Old English slidan and sled through Middle Low German sledde. Luge comes from the Savoy dialect of French, from Medieval Latin sludia, which may come from a Gaulish word from that same Proto-Indo-European root.
What does curling have to do with grapes? Etymology! Curling gets its name from the way the stone curls on the ice, and can be traced back to the root *g(e)r- “curving, crooked”. This also produced Germanic *krappon “hook”, and from that Old French graper “catch with a hook, pick grapes”, so basically the word transferred from referring to the vine hook used for picking grapes to the grapes themselves, replacing the Old English word winberige, literally “wine berry”.
Being on strike can produce a certain amount of stress and strain, but even though this goes along with the etymological territory, ultimately it should have a very different effect. Strike used to have an almost opposite sense, “to touch softly, rub” and is related to stroke, with strike, stroke, strain, and stress all going back to *streig- “stroke, rub, press”. The more violent sense of “hit hard” didn’t appear until the 13th century, and the labour disruption sense developed in the 18th century, from the notion of downing one’s tools, particularly sailors striking the sails when they didn’t want to leave port.
In his speech at the World Economic Forum, Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney eloquently pointed out that the middle powers of the world can no longer rely on hegemons like the United States and must instead seek more diversified trading alliances, since America has forsaken a rules-based world order. Hegemon, meaning “a leading power; a dominant state”, is borrowed directly from Greek hegemon “leader, commander, chief” from the verb hegeisthai “to lead” with the original sense “to track down” from Proto-Indo-European *sag-eyo- a suffixed form of the root *sag- “to seek out”, with PIE /s/ regularly becoming Greek /h/. That original /s/ was preserved in the Germanic branch with the suffixed form *sag-yo- leading to Proto-Germanic *sokjan, Old English secan or seocan “to seek”, and Modern English seek. The zero-grade form of this root *səg- also came into Old English, as sacan “to disagree, quarrel; fight; lay legal claim to; blame, accuse”, which when combined with the intensifying prefix for- “completely” formed OE forsacan “refuse; give up, relinquish; deny” and Modern English forsake.
Why do universities need unions? Etymology! It’s probably clear that both words come from Latin unus “one”. A union is a collection of workers. You might have thought that the word university reflects the idea of universal education or the universal coverage of subjects, but in fact it’s short for universitas magistrorum et scholarium, the union of teachers and students. The university started out as a kind of scholastic guild to protect their interests against outside, non-academic forces, reducing the financial barriers to education and protecting the livelihood of the teachers.
If you’re feeling woozy, you might want to check to see if you’ve caught a virus, at least that’s what the etymology suggests. The word woozy, an American English colloquialism first recorded in 1897, seems to be an alternation of oozy “muddy”. There are in fact two separate words ooze, one meaning “mud, slime” and the other “to flow, leak out slowly”, the second from the Proto-Indo-European root *wes- meaning “wet”, and the first, from which woozy seems to come, from the root *weis- meaning “to flow”, and from this root probably comes the Latin word virus meaning “poison”, which was the original sense of the English word virus in the 14th century before it developed it’s modern sense related to infectious diseases over the 18th and 19th centuries.
January 6th is Twelfth Night, a day when many people take the ornaments off their Christmas tree and store them in an orderly fashion for next year, and etymologically this only makes sense. Ornament comes from Latin ornare “adorn” which comes from the Proto-Italic root *ord- “to arrange”, which also leads to Latin ordo “arrangement” and English order.
Making any New Years resolutions tonight, like to go to the gym more often and lose a few pounds? Well that only makes sense, etymologically speaking. Resolution comes from Latin re- “again” + solvere “loosen, untie” from the Proto-Indo-European *se-lu- made up of the prefix *se- “apart” and *leu- “loosen, divide, cut apart”. This root through the Germanic branch gives us English lose.
Over the Yuletide season, you may sit down to dinner and pull one of those Christmas crackers, which in addition to their bang will give you a tissue paper crown, a small trinket, and a terrible joke. And you know what, that joke may be etymologically the perfect thing for Yule. Because you see, Yule, which originally referred not to Christmas but a pagan Germanic midwinter fertility festival, may ultimately descend from the Proto-Indo-European root *yek- “to speak”, from which we also get words such as joke, juggle, and jewel, probably through the notion of festivity. Unless Yule comes from the root *kwel- “to turn” because of the turning of the year that happens at that time.
Next time you sing the Christmas carol The Twelve Days of Christmas, don’t interrupt the partridge to fart loudly. Or perhaps you should. Because the only English word related to partridge is the word fart. These words descend from the Proto-Indo-European root *perd- “to fart loudly”. Apparently the sound of the partridge’s wings beating was reminiscent of the farting sound.
As it turns out, all of the other reindeer probably should have been shunning Rudolph, as he seems to be a wolf in reindeer’s clothing. The name of that most famous reindeer of all, Rudolph, literally means “famous-wolf”, the -olph part related to the word wolf, a common Germanic name element found in the name of the hero Beowulf, and the first part from Germanic hruod “fame, glory”, also a Germanic name element also found in the name Roger, literally “famous spear”.
Ice bowl with wildflowers frozen in the clear ice, filled with shrimp
Many people are enjoying their chocolate-filled Advent calendars right now, but of course those who are diabetic have to make sure they don’t eat too many sugary treats. Advent, the period preceding Christmas, in reference to the “coming” of Christ, first appeared in English as aduent in late Old English, coming from Latin adventus “a coming, approach, arrival”, with specific reference in Church Latin to “the coming of the Savior”, and is the past participle of the Latin verb advenire “to arrive at, come to”, made up from ad “to, toward” (from Proto-Indo-European *ad- “to, near, at”) + venire “to come”, from *gw(e)m-yo-, a suffixed variant form of the PIE root *gwa- “to go, come”. PIE *gw- typically becomes v- in Latin, pronounced [w], but in Greek this consonant went a number of different ways such as b, d, or g, so *gwa- produced the Greek verb bainein “to go, walk, step”, which, when combined with the prefix dia- “through” (probably from PIE *dwo- “two”), produced the verb diabainein “to pass through” and the Late Greek noun diabetes, literally “a passer-through, siphon”. The 2nd c. CE Greek physician Aretaeus the Cappadocian first used the term diabetes to refer to the disease because of its chief symptom “excessive discharge of urine”.
Thanksgiving is traditionally a time to be thankful, but it should also be a time to be thoughtful of the colonialist foundation of the holiday. The words thank, thanks, and thankful come from Old English þancian “to thank, reward”, þanc “thought, grateful though, gratitude”, and þancful “thoughtful, ingenious, clever; grateful, contented” respectively. So thank is basically the same as the word think, and thankful is basically the same as the word thoughtful, and all these words can all be traced back to the Proto-Indo-European root *tong- “to think, feel”. The sense progression here is basically from “thinking, remembering” to “remembering fondly, thinking of with gratitude”, so maybe instead of focusing on thanksgiving we should be focusing on thoughtgiving.
The cranberry and geranium plants aren't related botanically, but etymologically they are! The cran in cranberry comes from low German kraan “crane” because of the resemblance of the flower’s stamen to the bird’s bill. The bird’s name comes from Proto-Indo-European *gere- “to cry hoarsely” because of its call. This led to the Greek name for the bird geranos “crane” and thence to geranium from the resemblance of the plant’s seed pod to the bird’s bill.
The cause of progressivism in the US won a major victory with the election of Zohran Mamdami as mayor of New York City, and etymologically that makes sense. The word mayor, borrowed from Old French maire ca. 1300 in the sense “head of a city or town government” but with the original sense “greater, superior”, comes from Latin maior, the comparative form of the adjective magnus “large, great, big, high, tall, long, broad, extensive, spacious”. Latin maior was also borrowed directly into English in its original sense of “bigger, greater, more important” as major.
Etruscan bronze mirror in a display case at the British museum
Trump’s plan for the US to restart testing of nuclear weapons is nuts and shows that he’s thinking with his testicles rather than his brains. Nuclear, formed from nucleus in reference to the splitting of the nucleus of the atom, comes from Latin nucleus “kernel” from nucula “little nut”, the diminutive of nux “nut”, which can be traced back to the Proto-Indo-European *knuk-, an extended zero-grade form of the root *kneu- “nut”, which also had the extended zero-grade form *knud- which produced the Proto-Germanic root *hnut- leading to Old English hnutu “nut” and Modern English nut. Since nuts were considered a special treat the plural nuts gained the sense “any source of pleasure or delight” in the 17th c., and in the 18th c. the expression be nuts on meant “be very fond of”, and by the 19th c. nuts came to mean “crazy”. The slang sense of nuts meaning “testicles” first appears by 1915. As for the word testicle itself, it comes from Latin testiculus, a diminutive of testis “testicle”, whose origin is debated, either from another Latin word testis meaning “witness” (source of the English word testify), from the notion that testicles bear witness to male virility, or it might instead be a figurative sense coming from the Latin word testa “pot, shell” — compare for instance French tête “head” which also comes from Latin testa. In Medieval Latin, testum “earthen pot” referred to an earthen vessel, also known as a cupel, in which the purity of a metal was ascertained by exposing it to high temperatures, and by analogy came the English word test by which a teacher may ascertain a student’s knowledge.
It’s spooky season, and right on cue there’s a new monster movie in the moneymaking Frankenstein franchise, and etymologically that’s appropriate. Mary Shelley named the creator of the monster Victor Frankenstein, and this German name means literally “stone of the Franks”, the Franks being one of the Germanic tribes that dates back to the middle ages, which moved into Gaul, or modern day France. It’s a common enough German name, often being used to refer to a rocky mountainous terrain, and there are a number of old fortifications in Germany named Burg Frankenstein or Castle Frankenstein. The Franks, who took their name from a type of javelin that was their preferred weapon (or it might have been the other way around), were conquerors, and so the word frank came to mean “superior” or “free” (in contrast to those they conquered who weren’t free), so when you speak frankly you’re speaking “freely” or “openly”. We can see this sense too in the Old French word franchise “freedom, exemption; right, privilege”, which came into English in the late 14th c. with the sense “a special right or privilege (by grant of a sovereign or government)”, later developing into “right to buy or sell” and “right to exclude others from buying or selling, a monopoly” and in the 20th c. “authorization by a company to sell its products or services” and by extension “a series of related works (such as novels or films) each of which includes the same characters or different characters that are understood to exist and interact in the same fictional universe with characters from the other works”. Monster comes from Latin monstrum, which could refer to a “monster” or something with an abnormal shape, but really had the more general sense of “omen” or “portent”, since such abnormalities were taken as a sign, usually bad, of what was to come.