Retired Words

April comes from the Latin Aprilis, and its etymology is surprisingly uncertain. The most widely accepted theory connects it to the Latin verb aperire, meaning “to open”—a reference to the opening of buds and flowers in spring. The Romans themselves were not sure; Varro and Ovid both offered competing explanations involving Venus (Aphrodite) and the […]

March comes from the Latin Martius, named after Mars—the Roman god of war. In the original Roman calendar, March was the first month of the year, and the month when military campaigns resumed after winter. The Romans honored their war god by placing him at the head of the calendar—a choice that made political sense

February comes from the Latin Februarius, named after Februa—a Roman festival of purification and atonement held on the 15th of the month. The festival involved ritual cleansing, offerings to the dead, and the whipping of women with strips of goat skin to promote fertility (a practice the poet Ovid described with characteristic discomfort). None of

January comes from the Latin Ianuarius, named after Janus—the Roman god of doors, gates, beginnings, and transitions. Janus is famously depicted with two faces, one looking forward and one looking backward, symbolizing his dominion over past and future, entry and exit. The Romans placed him at the start of the year for obvious symbolic reasons:

Saturday stands apart from the other English day-names. While Monday through Friday come from Germanic deities, Saturday is the only day that retains its Roman origin: dies Saturni, the day of Saturn. The Anglo-Saxons, for reasons lost to history, did not substitute their own god for this one. Perhaps they had no equivalent. Perhaps they

Friday derives from Old English Frīgedæg, meaning “day of Frigg”—the Norse goddess of love and marriage, wife of Odin. The Romans dedicated this day to Venus (dies Veneris), and the Germanic peoples mapped their goddess Frigg onto the Roman one. The connection between Friday and love survives in the phrase “Thank God it is Friday,”

Thursday comes from Old English Þūnresdæg, meaning “day of Þunor”—the Anglo-Saxon god of thunder, equivalent to the Norse Thor. The Romans called this day dies Iovis (day of Jupiter), and the Germanic peoples, in their custom, substituted their own sky-god for the Roman one. The result, after a thousand years of linguistic erosion, is Thursday.

Wednesday is the worst offender in the English week—and English speakers know it. It is the only day of the week whose spelling defeats native speakers. Children in British and American schools are taught to sound it out as Wed-nes-day—a deliberate mispronunciation—just to remember how to spell it. If your word requires a special mnemonic

Tuesday comes from Old English Tīwesdæg, meaning “day of Tīw.” Tīw was a Germanic god of war, equivalent to the Norse Týr and the Roman Mars. Týr is most famous in Norse mythology for losing his right hand to the wolf Fenrir—a brave act, certainly, but not one that has any relevance to a modern

Monday comes from Old English Mōnandæg, literally “day of the moon.” It traces back to the Latin dies lunae, which the Germanic tribes translated directly into their own tongue. This is charming in a mythological sense—the moon, the night, the start of the working week—but it raises a question: does knowing that Monday means “moon