Unless you’re an avid hacky sacker, telling someone you’re going to “hit the sack” means you’re going to bed. As far as idioms go, this one is widely understood in English. But its origins are less clear. In order to better understand this playful phrase, let’s look at a similar idiom: “hit the hay.”
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According to the Oxford English Dictionary, “hit the hay” was likely coined sometime in the early 1900s — decades before “hit the sack” made an appearance. We can likely attribute this to the fact that some of the earliest beds were just piles of hay and grass, providing a bit of soft cushioning from the hard ground. When someone said “hit the hay,” they were likely referencing the rudimentary beds people slept on long before soft memory foam mattresses were created.
People also needed a way to contain loose hay. There’s evidence going all the way back to ancient Egypt that people were stuffing grasses, hay, and straw into bags for a mattress, and this practice was widespread across cultures for centuries. By 1825, the term “sack” became popular slang among sailors to refer to their bedding. If you were a sailor on “sack duty,” that meant you were sleeping. But the idiom “hit the sack” only gained wide recognition in the mid-20th century. An early printed example is found in the 1943 war diary of James J. Fahey, who served as a sailor on the Pacific front in World War II. He wrote: “I hit the sack at 8 p.m. I slept under the stars on a steel ammunition box two feet wide.”
So, if you say you’re going to “hit the sack” or “hit the hay,” it’s all a reference to how people slept in in the past. Fortunately for all of us, comfortable mattresses found at stores today are several steps above a hay-stuffed sack, even if you do have to fight with your dog for space.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Inbox Studio. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
Good Tidings and Feliz Navidad: The Origins of Holiday Phrases
From medieval English to 1930s advertising campaigns, the festive phrases we love have some surprising origins. Here’s how our favorite holiday expressions went from horse tails to greeting cards.
December brings together many traditions and cultures — it’s a time to include everyone in the festivities, and there’s language to do that. ’Tis the season for holiday phrases: Carols, decorations, and greeting cards are wishing “happy holidays,” “good tidings,” and a seemingly infinite number of other festive expressions. Some Christmas phrases come from Old English, while other salutations are 20th-century inventions. Let’s take time to explore the history behind some of these seasonal sayings so that you can have an even merrier and informed holiday season.
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Good Tidings
“Good tidings we bring to you and your kin. We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.” This Christmas carol line is popular on greeting cards throughout the season, but what are “good tidings”? By definition, the phrase is a way to say “good news.” In the classic carol “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” the line “tidings of comfort and joy” has the same general meaning. “Glad tidings” can be used interchangeably with “good tidings.” The word “tidings” stems from the Old English tidan, which meant “to happen.”
Happy Holidays
The phrase “happy holidays” is a relatively new invention. The Camel cigarette brand is credited with popularizing it as a wintertime phrase in a 1937 holiday ad that proclaimed, “A gift of Camels says, ‘Happy Holidays and Happy Smoking!’” Before then, the expression was used primarily in British English to refer to summer vacation from school. The word “holiday” itself is much older, though. Its etymology can be traced back centuries to the Old English word haligdaeg, which meant “holy day” or “religious festival.” Since there are several holidays that occur in or around the month of December, it’s a useful secular catch-all phrase to wish folks well during the season.
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Feliz Navidad
When singing “Feliz Navidad,” you are wishing someone a “merry Christmas.” The Spanish word feliz traces back to the Latin term felix, meaning “happy,” and Navidad is the Spanish word for “Christmas.” The spirited holiday song by the same name was written in 1970 by Puerto Rican singer-songwriter José Feliciano.
Trim the Tree
While you might get a trim at the barber before Christmas dinner in order to look your best, “trim the tree” doesn’t have anything to do with cutting the branches. Instead, it refers to decorating the tree. The use of “trim” to mean “decorate or adorn” was first recorded in the 1540s. The word stems from the Old English term trymian, which had many meanings, including “strengthen, arrange, prepare, or make ready.” A Christmas dinner might also include “trimmings,” meaning “garnishes or accompaniments.”
This common phrase refers to the company of many being more enjoyable than the company of a few. But that’s not the entire phrase. First recorded in 1530, the full expression is: “The more the merrier; the fewer, the better fare.” Essentially, more people may be more fun, but there will be more food with fewer people.
Featured image credit: Ground Picture/ Shutterstock
Jennifer A. Freeman is the Senior Editor of Word Smarts and Word Daily. When she's not searching for a perfect synonym or reaching "Genius" level on Spelling Bee, she's playing with her Welsh Terrier in Greenville, SC.
The humble “OK” became a fixture of the American lexicon thanks to 19th-century newspaper culture and a bit of political savvy from a presidential campaign. Several fads were popular among journalists during this time, particularly playful abbreviations and intentional misspellings. These quirks were meant to amuse — there were no Netflix comedy specials yet, after all — so “no use” turned into “know yuse” and “all right” became “oll wright,” for example. The twisted phrases were also shortened into abbreviations, much to the delight of readers who were in on the bit. So, “know yuse” morphed into “KY” and “oll wright” was “OW.”
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Amid this playfulness, “all correct” made its debut. Adding to the eccentricity of 19th-century jargon, words that started with “C” were often swapped out for a “K.” The culmination of these linguistic fads led writers at the Boston Morning Post to transform “oll korrect” (from “all correct”) into “OK” in 1839. This usage might have faded away, as did other faddish abbreviations, were it not for President Martin Van Buren taking up the cause.
During his 1840 reelection campaign, Van Buren ran under the nickname “Old Kinderhook,” a nod to his hometown in New York. As the campaign gained momentum, “OK Clubs” cropped up around the country in support of the candidate, using the slogan “OK is OK” — a play on the original newspaper phrase “oll korrect.” Of course, political rivalry is nothing new, and his opponent William Henry Harrison co-opted the letters into puckish phrases such as “orful katastrophe.”
Though Van Buren was ultimately defeated, the catchy slogan cemented “OK” in the public consciousness. After the invention of the telegraph in 1844, “OK” became the go-to abbreviation to confirm message receipt. Today, “OK” remains a cornerstone of communication — who among us can get through a texting conversation without using it (or the ultra-brief “k”) at least once? What began as a joke in a 19th-century Boston newsroom has become an enduring example of the evolution of language.
Rachel is a Washington, D.C.-based freelance writer. When she's not writing, you can find her wandering through a museum, exploring a new city, or advocating the importance of the Oxford comma.
Known for penning works such as A Christmas Carol (1843) and Oliver Twist (1838), Victorian-era writer Charles Dickens is so influential that the word “Dickensian” was coined in his honor, meaning “of or reminiscent of the novels of Charles Dickens.” While “Victorian” suggests the prudishness and high moral tone on display during that queen’s reign, the adjective “Dickensian” connotes the poor social conditions in Dickens’ novels, or perhaps refers to over-the-top characters, such as master thief Fagin in Oliver Twist. It might also refer to the themes present in Dickens’ works: redemption, resilience, and social critique.
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The author is even said to have invented a slew of interesting words, though incorrectly in some cases. He’s falsely credited, for example, with inventing common words including “boredom,” “flummox,” and “butter-fingers.” While he did popularize them in his writing, there’s evidence of earlier records by other authors. However, this shows that Dickens sought out lesser-known words, further demonstrating his prowess with the English language. Let’s take a look at some Dickensian words that the author did invent.
Sassigassity
Apparently, this word was employed only once, and by its inventor. According to Dickens, “sassigassity” means “audacity with attitude.” It was published in 1850 in “A Christmas Tree,” in the line “…the sassigassity of that dog is indeed surprising…” Perhaps it deserves a comeback.
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Messiness
“Messiness,” a derivation of “messy” (“untidy” or “dirty”), can be credited to Dickens. It’s a result of converting an existing adjective into a noun, something Dickens was famous for. In addition to “messiness,” it’s believed he coined “cheesiness,” “fluffiness,” and “seediness” from their respective adjectives.
Sawbones
Dickens coined this slang term in The Pickwick Papers in 1837, and described it thusly for readers: “I thought everybody know’d as a sawbones was a surgeon.” We don’t see this word often, but it’s still listed in the dictionary as an informal term for a doctor or surgeon.
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Whizz-bang
“Whizz-bang” was used in The Pickwick Papers to describe the sound of a gunshot. Today, “whizz-bang” (or “whiz-bang”) refers to a resounding success, as in, “She ran a whizz-bang campaign.” During WWII, it had a meaning closer to how Dickens used it, as a small-caliber shell.
Comfoozled
Dickens invented this word to mean “exhausted” or “overcome,” as seen in The Pickwick Papers: “He’s in a horrid state o’ love; reg’larly comfoozled, and done over with it.” This is not to be confused with the relatively new word “confuzzled,” which is a portmanteau of “confused” and “puzzled.”
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Mildewy
While Dickens often turned adjectives into nouns, he was also known for adding suffixes to nouns to create new adjectives. Case in point: the word “mildewy,” which was first recorded in The Pickwick Papers as an adjective, and was used later in A Tale of Two Cities (1859) to describe “the mildewy inside of the coach.” This is consistent with the modern usage to describe something moldy or affected by mildew. While he didn’t coin the original nouns, Dickens was known to create many new adjectives by adding the suffix “-y” to nouns, including “bulgy,” “swishy,” “soupy,” “waxy,” and “trembly.”
Dickens went one step further with the noun “jog-trot” when he transformed it into an adjective with an entirely new meaning. “It’s rather jog-trotty and humdrum. But it’ll do as well as anything else!” he wrote in Bleak House (1852). Traditionally, a jog-trot is a slow trot by a horse, but Dickens transformed it into an adjective to describe something that is boring or dull. It seems that this was a one-off creation, never to be seen again in other works.
Jennifer A. Freeman is the Senior Editor of Word Smarts and Word Daily. When she's not searching for a perfect synonym or reaching "Genius" level on Spelling Bee, she's playing with her Welsh Terrier in Greenville, SC.
What’s the Difference Between “Famous” and “Infamous”?
The distinction between “famous” and “infamous” is a common pitfall for even the most meticulous grammarists. The first refers to widespread adoration, while the latter denotes a reputation for wrongdoing.
On December 8, 1941, during a pivotal moment in World War II, President Franklin D. Roosevelt delivered a speech to Congress and the nation after the Pearl Harbor attack, describing the previous day as “a date which will live in infamy.” Those words were crafted strategically and chosen for the specific definition and weight they would bring to the president’s address, which became known as the “Day of Infamy” speech. “Infamy” refers to a reputation tarnished by shameful or criminal actions; the term relates to “infamous,” which means “having a reputation of the worst kind.”
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Here we have the answer to a common conundrum: What’s the difference between “famous” and “infamous”? Imagine how the impact of Roosevelt’s speech would have been curtailed had he used the phrasing “a date which will live in fame.” It carries significantly less punch than the original line, because “fame” and “famous” generally have positive connotations.
“Famous” describes someone or something widely known, popular, or honored for achievements — your favorite celebrity, a blockbuster film, and a celebrated event are all famous. The adjective is typically used to reference people or things in a positive light. “Infamous,” like “infamy,” describes something or someone that is notoriously bad or criminal. The Joker, Darth Vader, and Hannibal Lecter are infamous for their villainy, not their acclaim. A morally ambiguous, yet charismatic character could also be infamous — Marvel’s Loki is a perfect example with his cunning tricks and flair for betrayal.
Both “famous” and “infamous” derive from the Latin word fama, meaning “fame,” but the similarities end there. The confusion often arises with the letters “in.” With words that have a Latin root, sometimes the prefix “in-” means “into” or “toward.” That creates an intensifying effect, as with the words “inflame” and “induce.” Other times, the Latin prefix “in-” means “not,” such as with “inactive,” “incapable,” and “indefinite.” Usually, if a word is negated with the prefix “in-,” the opposite is created: “Inactive” is the opposite of “active.”
That’s not the case with “famous” and “infamous,” however. An infamous person is famous, but with the limited definition of having a bad reputation. The next time you’re tempted to use “infamous” to describe a renowned celebrity, remember to drop the “in-” — the devil is in the details.
Featured image credit: Serhii Yushkov/ Shutterstock
Rachel is a Washington, D.C.-based freelance writer. When she's not writing, you can find her wandering through a museum, exploring a new city, or advocating the importance of the Oxford comma.
What’s a Tannenbaum? A Guide to Puzzling Christmas Carol Terms
From bobtails to wassail, familiar holiday songs are filled with words that have largely vanished from modern English. Here’s your guide to historic terms that pop up every December.
Cheery jingles have long been part of getting into the Christmas holiday spirit. But even if the tunes get stuck in our heads and we know the lyrics by heart, do we really know what they mean? For example, what is figgy pudding? Troll the ancient Yuletide carol and learn more about these archaic Christmas words.
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Bobtails
“Bells on bobtails ring, making spirits bright” is an unforgettable line from the 19th-century carol “Jingle Bells.” A bobtail is a short or docked tail of an animal, especially on a horse or dog. The premise of this carol is riding on a “one-horse open sleigh” — which was also the song’s original title — so these bobtails are on horses whose tails are decorated with bells for the holiday season.
Figgy Pudding
The most memorable use of “figgy pudding” must be in the carol “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” which includes the lyric, “Oh, bring us some figgy pudding.” Perhaps surprisingly, figgy pudding doesn’t even have to contain figs. This dish dates back to 14th-century England, where it was also called “plum pudding,” but plums as we know them today weren’t in the recipe either. In the recipe’s original form, “figs” or “plums” referred to any kind of dried fruit, and figgy pudding was a savory dish, made with beef, mutton, raisins, prunes, wine, and spices.
Modern figgy pudding is a sweeter recipe. Today, it’s a Christmas staple similar to a fruitcake, made of flour, sugar, spices, and dried fruit. In some recipes, that fruit is figs, but it doesn’t have to contain figs to be called “figgy pudding.”
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Hark
“Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” was written in 1739, but it remains one of the most popular of the Christmas hymns. “Hark” is from the Old English verb “hearken,” meaning “listen.” In the 19th century, “hark” was commonly used as a hunting call to gain attention, but the word is likely used now only in this hymn.
Tannenbaum
“Jubilee” is an archaic word for a celebration, such as in the “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” line, “The kids in boy and girl land will have a jubilee.” “Jubilee” has been in English since the 14th century, when it was used to denote the anniversary of the emancipation of enslaved Hebrews. Today, it retains the meaning of a celebration, and is often used to reference anniversary celebrations, such as the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee.
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Tannenbaum
“O Christmas Tree” was originally a German song called “O Tannenbaum.” The word Tannenbaum literally translates to “fir tree” from German, but also means “Christmas tree,” although it’s rather archaic in the German language today. Germans also use der Weihnachtsbaum for “Christmas tree.”
Troll
In “Deck the Halls,” the word “troll” is a verb meaning “to sing loudly” or “to celebrate in song” — it has nothing to do with the mythical creatures in Scandinavian folklore. So, to “troll the ancient Yuletide carol” is essentially to cheerfully and loudly sing Christmas carols.
“Wassail” has been around since at least the 12th century, when it was used in the Old Norse toast ves heill, meaning “be well.” By the 14th century, it was used to describe a warm beverage enjoyed around Christmastime (such as wine or cider). Christmas carolers enjoyed these warm drinks on cold winter nights, which brings us to the next definition of “wassail,” a verb to describe riotous drinking. “Wassailing” eventually became synonymous with caroling and other Christmas festivities, resulting in the 1850 song “Here We Come A-Wassailing” (“The Wassailing Song”), better known today as “Here We Come A-Caroling.”
Yuletide
“Yuletide” is an archaic term for the Christmas season, as seen in “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” in the line “Make the Yuletide gay.” This essentially means “to make the Christmas season cheerful.” The word “Yule” itself is an Old English word that refers to Christmas Day. It comes from the Old Norsejol, a three-day festival that began on the winter solstice.
Rachel is a Washington, D.C.-based freelance writer. When she's not writing, you can find her wandering through a museum, exploring a new city, or advocating the importance of the Oxford comma.
The word “octopus” has nearly as many plural forms as the creature does legs. Well, not quite, but there are three versions that are commonly used (and debated): “octopi,” “octopuses,” and “octopodes.” You may be thinking, “It’s all Greek to me.” But it’s not hard to explain, and one of the plurals actually does have origins in Greek.
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“Octopi” is perhaps the most common, yet still irregular, pluralization of “octopus.” It comes from an early-19th-century tradition of giving natural-world nouns that end in “-us” the Latin plural ending, which is “-i.” This is the case with words such as “platypus” (“platypi”) and “cactus” (“cacti”) that have Latin roots. However, since “octopus” is originally derived from Greek (oktō meaning “eight” and pous meaning “foot”), not Latin, some etymologists (including those at the Oxford English Dictionary) argue that the plural “octopi,” while commonly used, is not technically accurate.
(Editor’s note: The New York Times crossword has used “octopi” several times as an answer. As the puzzle editors have yet to respond to my letters asserting the error, I have to assume they believe it is the correct plural. —JF)
“Octopuses” is another plural form of “octopus” that came into use a bit later in the 19th century. It’s based on the standard practice of adding “es” to the end of an English word ending in “s” in order to make it plural. Think “buses,” “mattresses,” “glasses,” and so on.
Lastly, let’s talk about Oxford’s choice for the plural: “octopodes.” The word “octopus” originally came from the Greek oktṓpous, meaning “eight foot.” In Greek, the plural of that word is oktṓpodes, and in English, that plural is “octopodes” (pronounced “ahk-TOH-poh-deez”). While this is perhaps the least likely contender for the correct plural of “octopus” if you were to ask people on the street, it is the most etymologically accurate. Now you have a new fun fact for cocktail parties.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Inbox Studio. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
Many of our science words are named after people, in honor of their contributions to the field. Learn more about these people and the measurements they gave their names to.
Watts are a common way to measure electricity, whether it’s the 60 watts in a standard lightbulb or the 1.21 gigawatts needed for Marty McFly to go back to the future. But the term “watt” isn’t just some scientific mumbo jumbo — it’s the last name of a prominent 18th-century inventor, James Watt. This scientist was also known for revolutionizing the way steam engines operate, making them run more efficiently. So how did his name come to be so intertwined with measuring electricity?
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In 1882, at the 52nd meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Science, more than six decades after Watt’s death, engineer Carl Wilhelm Siemens proposed “watt” as a unit to measure electrical power. He noted that many other scientific terms were named after leaders in the field, and thought James Watt would be a suitable namesake for this new unit given his contributions to mechanical power, even though his innovations weren’t directly connected to electricity.
In 1948, the watt was redefined as a specific measurement of one joule per second — the joule being another unit of electrical energy. In 1960, the word was added to the International System of Units, after it was adopted at the 11th General Conference on Weights and Measures. It remains the primary unit for measuring power in most electrical devices today.
Other terms in the field of electricity are named similarly for historic figures, including “volt” (“a unit of electrical potential”). It was named for Italian physicist Alessandro Volta, who’s often credited as the inventor of the electric battery. Today, “battery voltage” explains the potential power of a battery. The ohm, a unit of measurement for electrical resistance, was named in 1861 for German physicist Georg Ohm, who spent his life studying the current and potential of electricity.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Inbox Studio. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
Much like eating a pint of ice cream while watching guilty-pleasure television, using adverbs, tempting as it may be, is best done sparingly. Just ask author Stephen King, who declared, “The road to hell is paved with adverbs,” in the writing guide/memoir On Writing. Where did King get the idea that adverbs are such a negative part of speech? And despite his feelings on the topic, isn’t it possible to use them in a manner that adds color and intrigue? Let’s examine why King might have his curious opinion and how adverbs are used — for better or worse.
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Adverbs are similar to adjectives, which are used to describe nouns. Adverbs, however, can describe verbs, adjectives, entire sentences, and even other adverbs. Generally, adverbs end in “-ly” — and “generally” just so happens to be one. But there are plenty of exceptions to the “-ly” rule, including words such as “soon,” “almost,” and “often,” just to name a few.
The most common use for adverbs is to modify verbs and describe how a certain action is performed. You may say, “They jogged happily down the street,” or “The musician sang beautifully.” “Happily” and “beautifully” are adverbs that modify the verbs “jogged” and “sang.” King’s complaint isn’t without merit, though. While they can provide detail and context, as in the examples above, adverbs are often superfluous. For example, “Beatrice yelled loudly” is redundant, given the word “yelled” already implies loudness.
When modifying adjectives, adverbs are intensifiers that add strength to the descriptor. For example, someone may be “exceptionally strong” or a hill could be “very large.” King might give the writing advice that if you’re using “very” or “really,” chances are there’s a more descriptive word you can choose instead of a clunky adverb/adjective combo; rather than “very large,” say “enormous.”
If you’re using an adverb to modify a complete sentence, the adverb should appear at the start: “Clearly, she didn’t study for the test.” Other examples of this kind of adverb usage include “actually,” “basically,” “fortunately,” and so on. Lastly, adverbs can alter other adverbs, as in, “She never fully accepted the truth,” or “The kid ran around the room very energetically.” These add extra emphasis when you’re trying to hammer home a point.
In general, using adverbs is straightforward in a grammatical sense. In King’s diatribe against adverbs, he goes on to say, “Good writing is often about letting go of fear.” To make your writing stronger and more interesting, let go of your fear and take the red pen to those adverbs. Replace them with stronger nouns and verbs that convey your meaning better than a basic adverb such as “very” ever could.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Inbox Studio. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
As a lover of historical dramas, I’m captivated by elaborate costumes, immersive details, and poetic dialogue. However, I’m easily disillusioned by inaccuracies. It’s frustrating to be pulled out of the moment by a mismatched accent or a faulty turn of phrase, and a common offender in period dramas is the use of words, phrases, or idioms that don’t quite align with the historical setting.
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These thoughts arose while I was watching an episode of the TV series Outlander, set in 18th-century Scotland. In a tense exchange, protagonist Claire Fraser greets one of her adversaries, the Duke of Sandringham. Upon expressing his delight to see her, Claire replies, “I wish I could say the same.” Visibly stunned, the duke responds, “You cut me to the quick, but I suppose I deserve it.” This made me wonder: Is this idiom accurate for the time period? And what does “cut to the quick” mean?
After a bit of research, I can confirm: The idiom was historically accurate for the time, and it’s actually older. “Cut to the quick” describes the act of deeply hurting someone emotionally. For example, “His petty insult about her personal life cut to the quick.” This phrase uses a long-lost definition of “quick.” Instead of meaning “fast” (as we use it today), this version of “quick” hearkens back to an archaic usage meaning “alive” or “animated,” derived from the Old English word cwic, meaning “characterized by the presence of life.” While rare today, this definition has been in use since the 12th century.
By the 14th century, “quick” also referred to the sensitive flesh beneath the fingernail, still called that today. This hints at the idiom’s usage; it involves “cutting” through the dead skin until you reach the “quick,” that is, the living, most sensitive part. Metaphorically, “cutting to the quick” causes an emotional injury so severe that it reaches the deepest, most sensitive parts of a person.
This idiom became mainstream in the 16th century and has remained popular ever since. It’s an excellent example of how language evolves while preserving echoes of its past. While Outlander may take historical liberties, at least in this case, the use of “cut to the quick” was spot-on.
Featured image credit: Farknot Architect/ Shutterstock
Rachel is a Washington, D.C.-based freelance writer. When she's not writing, you can find her wandering through a museum, exploring a new city, or advocating the importance of the Oxford comma.
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