Category Archives: Etymology

History Undusted: The CB Radio

You know how your brain fires off random thoughts as you fall to sleep, or combines odds-bods into dreams forgotten as soon as you wake up? For some reason, 10-4 popped into my head in those moments last night. It sent me down the rabbit hole I now present: The history of the CB radio.

The often-forgotten or overlooked inventor of the Citizen’s Band (CB) radio system, along with inventions such as a patented version of the walkie-talkie (originally invented by the Englishman Donald Hings), the telephone pager, and the cordless telephone – all precursors to today’s cell phones, was Al Gross (1918-2000): Born in Toronto, Canada, he grew up in Cleveland, Ohio. The son of Romanian-Jewish immigrants, his love for electronics was sparked when, at the age of nine, he was travelling by steamboat on Lake Erie; he explored the ship and ended up in the radio transmissions room, where the operator let him listen in. Eventually, he turned the family’s basement into a radio station built from scraps. During his higher studies, he experimented with ways to use radio frequencies.

During World War 2, he had some involvement with developing a two-way VHF air-to-ground communications system for the U.S. Office of Strategic Services, known as the Joan-Eleanor system, and after the war, the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) allocated a few frequencies for the Citizens’ Radio Service Frequency Band, in 1946. Gross saw the potential and founded the Gross Electronics Co. to produce two-way communications systems to make use of these frequencies; his firm was the first to receive FCC approval in 1948. For more about his other inventions, just follow the link on his name above. For now, let’s focus on the CB:

The CB radio became an international hit back before cell phones and computers became a thing (despite the prevalence of cell phones, CBs are still around; truckers still communicate about road conditions, etc. Its usage was also revived by the Covid lockdown, when people began reaching out to meet and talk to others outside of their own four walls). It was, and is, a way to communicate with others long-distance from home or on the go.

My dad was always interested in the latest technological gadgets; in the mid-70s, we got a laserdisc player, the precursor of CDs, and DVD/Blu-Ray players. I remember watching films like Logan’s Run and Heaven Can Wait on that format. Laserdiscs never really took off, and only about 2% of US households had one (it became more popular in Japan at the time). Around that time, we also got a CB radio in our VW van. My dad had a chart with all of the CB slang words and codes, and I memorised it, fascinated by the lingo. On long road trips, I would get on the CB and chat with truck drivers. My handle (nickname) was Spider-Fingers, as I liked spiders and had long fingers (long fingers has the connotation of thief, so I didn’t want to use that!). Here is just the tip of the iceberg, a smattering of the codes and slangs used by CB radio enthusiasts, truckers and handymen:

There were dozens of slang terms for law enforcement officers: Bear (police officer); bear trap (speed trap, radar trap) taking pictures, also called a Kojak With A Kodak; bear bait (an erratic or speeding driver); bear with ears (listening to CB traffic); bear in the air/flying doughnut/Spy in the sky (helicopter radar traps), baby bear (rookie), fox in the henhouse/Smokey in a plain wrapper (policemen in unmarked vehicles); honey bear, mamma bear or Miss Piggy (slangs for female police officers); Brush Your Teeth And Comb Your Hair (a law enforcement vehicle is radaring vehicles – as if preparing for an official photo). A Driving Award was a speeding ticket. To wish someone Shiny side up meant that you wished them safe travels (keeping the vehicle upright).

There were slang terms for objects or events, such as Bambi, meaning that there was wildlife near the road and to take precautions; a crotch rocket was a fast motorcycle; double-nickels was a 55-mph speed limit area; a fighter pilot was an erratic driver who switched lanes frequently, while a gear jammer was someone who sped up and slowed down frequently; Alabama chrome was duct tape; an alligator/gator was a piece of blown tire on the highway, as it looked in the distance like a gator sunbathing. Convoys had front doors and back doors – the front or back truck in the group that would keep an eye open for bear traps. Motion lotion was fuel; the hammer lane was the fast lane (hammer was the gas pedal, and to hammer down was to drive full-speed). Break/breaker: Informing other CB users that one wanted to start transmission on a channel; a handle might be introduced, or requested if someone was looking for a CB friend. “Breaker, this is Spider-Fingers, over.” Asking for a comeback meant that you couldn’t hear the last transmission or wanted the other driver to talk. Break check meant traffic congestion ahead, slow down. A Bumper Sticker/hitchhiker is a vehicle that is tailgating another vehicle.

Aside from hundreds of slang terms, there was a whole list of codes (I guess you could say that the codes were the precursors of emojis!):

10-4: Agreed, understood, acknowledged

4-10: The opposite – asking for agreement or if a transmission was received.

10-6: Busy, stand by

10-7: Signing off

10-10: Transmission completed, standing by (you’ll be listening)

10-20: Location – What’s your (10-)20? Home-20 was asking for a driver’s home location/base.

10-33: Emergency traffic, clear the channel. CB code for Mayday for trucks and police cars.

10-42: Accident on the road

3s and 8s: Well wishes to a fellow driver. Borrowed from amateur ham radio codes “73” (best regards) and “88” (hugs and kisses).

The lists go on and on! I love the dry sense of humour reflected in the slang, and I think our everyday language could be a bit livelier if we included a few phrases that looked at things from a different perspective. Everyone could do with more 3s and 8s, 4-10?

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History Undusted: MacGyver and Blue Peter

This week’s topic arose from a conversation with my husband; we were discussing a temporary fix we had made at his mother’s home to make something usable until we could find a permanent solution. I said that we had “MacGyvered” it, and he had never heard the word before. That led me down a rabbit hole to naval flags, a card game, and British tele.

First, MacGyver: Though I knew the term, I had no idea what its origin was. The name comes from the eponymous character in a US television series that ran from 1985 to 1992; Angus MacGyver was a non-violent, resourceful genius, and his favourite tool was, of course, a Swiss Army knife. Though I was living in the States at that time, its running years explain why I didn’t know of the origin: In 1985, I was in college, having finished high school a year early (I took my final two years in one); I was too busy to watch television. In 1986, I moved to Hawaii to do a Discipleship Training School (DTS) with Youth With A Mission (YWAM), and went from there to the Philippines, where we worked in the red-light district of Olongapo. 1987 was a year of multiple jobs, earning money and hanging out with college friends – again, TV was not a priority. In 1988, I emigrated to Scotland.

The traits mentioned above made MacGyver a verb; when something is “MacGyvered“, a simple yet elegant solution to a problem is employed by using existing resources. At my mother-in-law’s home, we needed to level a new microwave that was sitting tilted atop the welded inserts that fit the original one. Our solution was to use an actual leveller, removing the end caps to make it fit inside the metal frame.

Now, down the rabbit hole: In the time of British ships of sail, when a blue flag with a white square or rectangle in the centre flew alone, it served as the sign for imminent departure (signifying P, leaving port); any passengers and crew in port would then return to the ship. The flag came into use in 1777, and by the turn of the century had become known as the blue peter. I have my suspicions that the term may have come from the card game of whist, in which a strategic manoeuvre known as the “blue peter” calls for trumps by throwing away a higher card of a suit while holding a lower one. No one can say for sure which came first, the ship or the card, so to speak, but the connection is likely.

The British children’s television programme, Blue Peter, first aired on 16 October 1958; the name was inspired when Owen Reed, the producer, was inspired by a radio programme for children (produced by Trevor Hill) that began airing on television once a month; it was launched aboard the MV Royal Iris ferry on the River Mersey, Liverpool, with presenter Judith Chalmers standing at the bottom of the gangplank to welcome everyone aboard. Reed was so captivated by the idea, and with the blue peter flag, that he asked to rename the programme (then called the Children’s Television Club) and take it to London.

Blue Peter, catering to younger children, is the longest-running children’s TV programme in the world; over the years it has changed with the times, and its content is wide-ranging, but they still give a nod and a wink to that original blue peter flag by giving out badges in the shape of a shield with a blue ship of sail on a wave. It is awarded to viewers for achievements, efforts, or creative work. There are different levels of badges, with the gold badge being the most prestigious; this is usually given to presenters upon their retirement or to people who have accomplished something extraordinary.

Among other things, the show is famous for its segments of “makes” – demonstrations of how to make useful objects, or how to make something to eat. This is the element that linked the term Blue Peter to MacGyver in my mind, so now ya know!

What is something that you have MacGyvered? And do any of my British followers know if “Blue Peter” is used as a verb in a similar fashion? Please comment below!

Blue Peter Badge

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Etymology Undusted: Zarf

To me, the word Zarf sounds like a sci-fi comedy name for an inept villain. But, in fact, it’s a word that entered English in 1836, and is the Arabic word for “vessel”. It describes an object that you’ve seen or have likely had in your hand at some point. I will freely admit that the zarfs we know today have fallen a long way from their original forms: A zarf is the holder of a coffee cup. That sounds fairly straightforward. You may have instantly pictured a highly decorative, precious metal jewelled… no? Are those crickets I hear chirping in the vast silence of confusion? Or maybe you pictured the cardboard contraption around a hot cup of Starbucks coffee. Fallen a long way, indeed. (Camps are divided on whether the latter constitutes a zarf… for good reason: I think they would be better referred to as sleeves, as to put them on par with the bejewelled masterpieces would be an insult to the artisans of bygone days.)

Zarfs arose out of the necessity of protecting one’s hands from a hot cup; before the monster of plastic reared its ugly head, cups were made from metal or glass, often without handles. Further back, they might have been made from plant products such as coconut shells. The oldest known cups were found in Gough’s Cave in Cheddar Gorge, Somerset, England, and dated to 14,700 years ago; they were made of cannibalised human skulls.

During the 16th century, coffee gained popularity throughout the Ottoman Empire. It led to the popularity of coffee paraphernalia and coffee houses, which eventually spread worldwide and remain popular to this day. In Britain, for instance, a coffee-house culture arose in the 17th century; by the end of the century, there were over 3,000. Such venues became known as penny universities, because, for the price of a cup of coffee, men could join in the hubs of intellectual exchange and debate. Artists, journalists, poets and writers gathered to discuss God and the world; the Inklings, a literary group including C.S. Lewis and JRR Tolkien, met regularly at the Eagle and Child in St Giles’, Oxford.

By the 19th century, the goldsmiths of Switzerland had become leaders in the production and export of ornate zarfs, made of precious metals and inlaid with precious stones or small hand-painted medallions. They were often made in fine filigree, with a smaller cup, known as a fincan, made of ceramic or glass, slipped inside to hold the coffee. A modern version of this is still widely used, called a demitasse (French for half cup), in which espresso is often served.

Without further ado, here are a few examples of zarfs and fincans, along with demitasses:

Source: Sothebys.com
A Swiss musical box zarf, ca. 1840 – Metropolitan Museum of Art
Fincans within zarfs
Demitasse set. Source, Wikipedia
Starbucks “zarf”, or sleeve

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Obscurities: Mondegreen

The word Mondegreen is an example of what it means: Misheard lyrics in songs. The word was coined by the journalist Sylvia Wright in 1954, when she misheard the lyrics in a Scottish ballad; instead of hearing They have slain the Earl o’ Moray, / And laid him on the green, she heard Lady Mondegreen.

Examples of this happen frequently; when I was a child, I misheard the lyrics from Dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleigh as a one-hose hope and slay – I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but I sang it with gusto! A famous mondegreen is Bob Dylan’s The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind misheard as The ants are my friends. All the whiskey in the sea can be heard in Club Tropica, by Wham!; the actual line is All that’s missing is the sea. From Toto’s song Africa, instead of the line bless the rains down in Africa, some people hear left my brains down in Africa. In Abba’s Dancing Queen, they sing feel the beat from the tambourine, but I hear tangerine. There are likely as many mondegreens as there are songs, as garbled communication, Chinese whispers, accents and the mix of words and music can all lead to different conclusions than those intended by the singers or songwriters.

Have you ever misheard lyrics? Share your mondegreens below!

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Obsoletusvocabularium…  Up with Archaism!

English is relatively young, as languages go. Like a sponge, it absorbs words and meanings from other languages, then squeezes them out in a similar (or widely different) form.  In other words, English is a survivor; it has survived the attempts to destroy it by the Danish Vikings, the French (Normans, aka Vikings disguised as French), and the Germans. These historical encounters give me high hopes that it will survive the age of the Cell Phone.  With each skirmish, it has come out stronger, more versatile and more flexible.  When the Pilgrims packed up English and crated it off to the New World, it was locked, as it were, in a time capsule. British English absorbed a few bad habits from the French before they thought better of it and distanced themselves during the French Revolution, but in the meantime, contentious pronunciation differences to that time-capsule relative over the Pond had crept in and persist to this day. One example: The American pronunciation of schedule (/skedju(e)l/) is from the original Greek pronunciation, which was used in Britain for onk-years until they took on the fancier French-ified pronunciation of /shedju(e)l/.  For a fascinating glimpse into how Modern English was formed, William Caxton (~1422-~1491) is your man.

While English pilled through the pockets of invaders stealing loose grammar, we also lost a few words along the way:  Some words are known to us in one form but not the other, while other words have been lost altogether due to a more convenient absorption or form arising.  You know of disgruntled (adj.), but what about gruntle (v.) or disgruntle (v.)?  And dis– in this particular case is not used to form the antonym of gruntle, but means exceedingly gruntled.  And I don’t know about you, but conject as a verb makes more sense than “conjecture” to me.  And shall we vote to bring back “Oliphant,” as J.R.R. Tolkien saved it from extinction through his use of it in Lord of the Rings?  What about pash (n.), contex (v.), or spelunk (n.)?  We know of fiddle-faddle, but what about plain ol’ “faddle” (to trifle)?  Some, admittedly, are not missed; toforan is better served with heretofore, in my humble opinion (IMHO).  Needsways is a Scottish word, obsolete in England and America perhaps, but alive and well north of the Border.  There are some deliciously eccentric words which deserve resuscitation, such as loblolly, bric-a-brac, sulter, pill (v., to plunder, pillage – ought to come in handy, that), quib, bugbear, uptake (as a verb), wist (intent), or sluggy.  If Sir Walter Scott can save words such as doff and don from extinction, so can we.

Oh, and if you’re wondering about the word archaism, it means “retention of what is old and obsolete.”  So twinge your language to include these mobile words and their meanings, and revelate your intelligence! And if you’re curious, yes, Grammarly and spellcheck were going batship crazy with this post!😎

(Comic from xkcd used under a Creative Commons license)

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History Undusted: Code Talkers

Navajo code talkers, Cpl. Henry Blake Jr. and PFC George H Kirk, who served with the Marine Signal Unit.
Source: Public Domain

Code talkers were Native Americans from various tribes who were employed by the US military during World War 2 as radio operators; their native tongues were indecipherable to anyone listening in, and as a result, their transmissions of sensitive messages were invaluable in allied victories on every Pacific island, including Iwo Jima, as well as in Europe in decisive battles.

Codes were developed based on the languages of the Assiniboin, Cherokee, Cheyenne, Choctaw, Comanche, Cree, Crow, Fox, Hopi, Kiowa, Menominee, Navajo, Ojibwa, Oneida, Osage, Pawnee, Sauk, Seminole, and Sioux peoples. These men could transmit over open radio channels, knowing that the enemy would be unable to break their code. If a military term did not exist in their languages, a phrase was used in its place: A submarine became an iron fish; a fighter plane became a hummingbird; a squad became a black street. In all, throughout WW2, over 400 terms were developed and needed to be memorised by each code talker.

The code talkers continued to be used after the end of the war, which delayed their recognition by the wider public – until documentaries about their service finally began to emerge in the 1990s. In 2002, the U.S. Congress passed the Code Talkers Recognition Act, followed by a similar act in 2008 to honour the tribes who used their languages in the wartime service of the United States.

The use of code talkers was a socially complex one: The languages that were so invaluable to the US military were the very tools that the US government had been trying to eradicate in the name of cultural assimilation. Between 1880 and 1905, boarding schools were established, in which Native American children were taken from their families and educated; they were taught to reject their Native values, languages, traditions and anything to do with their native culture. They were punished, sometimes severely, for using their native tongues; they were forced to dress like the “white man”, and were not allowed to wear their native garments or have any vestiges of their tribes. Some 100,000 Native Americans were forced to attend such schools. Parents who resisted the kidnapping of their children were imprisoned; several from the Hopi tribe were even imprisoned on Alcatraz Island. Though most of these schools had been closed by the 1930s, the cultural and psychological damage had taken its toll on many native people groups, many of whom still struggle with their cultural identities today. At the time these young warriors were called into military service or chose to join after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, many were not even legal American citizens, yet they fought for their land and their families.

With that background in mind, the dedication and ingenuity of the code talkers are all the more astounding. They were often in the first wave of soldiers deployed as they were needed to pass on messages for the strategic planning and execution of driving back the Japanese from the Pacific islands. In addition to the Pacific arena, the European front also benefited from the code talkers’ ability to communicate directly with each other: Comanche code talkers were assigned to the 4th Infantry Division when it landed at Normandy in June 1944. In this context, some of the Comanche substitutes were turtle for tank, a pregnant bird for bomber, and crazy white man was their term for Adolf Hitler – a more insightful term has never been more aptly applied.

For a fascinating look into a history largely forgotten, please click on the following video recounting code talkers telling their stories firsthand as they return to the Pacific Islands with their families and find peace after decades of PTSD. The video is 1:10, but well worth the time when you can take it: Navajo Code Talkers of World War II (2018) | Documentary

Other sources:

https://eji.org/news/history-racial-injustice-cultural-genocide/

https://www.britannica.com/topic/code-talker

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Geology Undusted: Rock vs Stone

Today’s topic is the kind of thing that flashes through my brain at 4 a.m. when I’m dropping off to sleep.

Sometimes rock and stone can be used interchangeably, depending on the context of science, society or conversation; but some phrases are intuitively either stone- or rock-rooted: We say rock road, rockslide and rock salt, but stonemason, stone wall and Stonehenge.

In geological terms, a rock is a naturally occurring mass of minerals, particularly those with a distinctive composition (e.g. granite, bedrock, igneous, or features such as Ayers Rock). Other geological terms range from clay, silt, sand, pebble, gravel, cobble, boulder or glacial erratic (material moved by geological forces from one location to another) to mountain in size.

In Archaeological terms, rock refers to a geological formation, while stone refers to any rock that has been placed or modified into a tool by humans (ergo, Stonehenge, not Rockhenge). When an archaeological dig is underway and they pull out a rock, trained eyes can spot signs of scarring, or scoring, such as on a core, which is a piece of rock that has been worked by a stone tool referred to as a hammerstone (for obvious reasons), used to shape another rock into a tool, such as in the process of flint knapping (the more refined the knapping process, the more refined the tools become, such as using antler or copper nubs to chip away finer areas of an arrowhead or hunting barb). In Kansas, where I grew up, arrowheads are still discovered occasionally; I have a small collection, along with a few obsidian arrowheads.

In archaeological excavations, what might appear to be a natural rock formation may turn out to be an ancient boundary wall, with stones intentionally stacked for a specific purpose. In that sense, though a rock road has intentionally been placed, it is not stone – it is placed for a purpose, yes, but its arrangement is left as it falls, so it is referred to as a rock road.

Years ago, when my husband and I were walking along a rocky riverbank in Ticino (in the Italian-speaking part of Switzerland), I picked up a stone; it had obvious signs of human activity, with smoothed sides where hands held it, and scrapes along the top and bottom, such as might be caused by sharpening a tool – whether antler or arrowhead. As it was washed down from its resting place in the rapids, it was no longer in situ and therefore would have no archaeological significance.

So which is it, stone or rock? For me, the answer is this: When it has been modified or intentionally placed or ordered by humans, it’s stone; when it’s naturally occurring, it’s rock.

I’ll leave you with a few idioms carved in stone or rock:

Set /carved in stone

Living under a rock

Leave no stone unturned

On the rocks

Heart of stone

Kill two birds with one stone

Have rocks in one’s head

Cast the first stone

As solid as a rock / As solid as the Rock of Gibraltar

Written in stone

Like getting blood from a rock

Between a rock and a hard place

A stone’s throw

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Etymology Undusted: Fiddle-Faddle

Sometimes, my husband and I discuss history, and an odd topic here or there pops up; I’ll often delve into the history or etymology of a phrase, word, or idiom and share my findings here. So, no more fiddling about; let’s get to it.

A reduplication in English is a word or sound that’s doubled or altered the second time for effect; there are a few kinds of reduplications: Exact repeats, like bye-bye or night-night; rhyming, like okey-dokey, easy-peasy, or higgledy-piggledy; ablauts, like chit-chat, criss-cross, splish-splash, or wishy-washy; there is even a series of -shm reduplications, like fancy-shmancy, laborday-shmaborday, or work-shmerk. Some reduplications emphasise the first term to focus on the prototypical or normal form of something, e.g. ‘I just was a salad-salad (not bean salad or tuna salad)’. Many such words have become standard in English, such as flip-flops, wingdings, or zig-zag. Every language probably has such words; German has krimskrams, schnikschnak, mischmasch, larifari, Wirrwarr and more. Italian has a few that have slipped into use in other languages, such as piano piano (very slowly), Mamma mia (literally, my mother, but used as an expression of surprise, frustration, or even delight, similar to ‘Oh my goodness‘), or bric-a-brac (knick-knack).

Have you ever said (or heard someone else say) Fiddle-faddle? It first appeared in English in the 1570s, meaning trifles, or to talk nonsense or speak of something not worth serious attention. Fiddle is another word for violin and is the more colloquial/casual of the two; as such, it has long been associated with less important things. Georgette Heyer uses fiddle without faddle to mean trivial or nonsense; the reduplication would merely emphasise the meaning of the first word, so she chose to drop the second.

John Milton Edwards (the pen-name of William Wallace Cook, 1867-1933) wrote, “There’s a lot of fiddle-faddle wrapped up in that word ‘inspiration.’ It is the last resort of the lazy writer, of the man who would rather sit and dream than be up and doing...”

It was also used as an adjective to describe a troublesome person, such as a nit-picky, ceremonious old woman. As a verb, to fiddle-faddle means to dally, which leads us to another reduplication: dilly-dally, which means to loiter, delay, or trifle! A fiddle-faddler is a person who trifles or dallies.

No dilly-dallying, let’s get to the point: Which reduplications have you used? Have you ever known a fiddle-faddler or a dilly-dallier? If you know of more such words, please put them in the comments below!

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History Undusted: Engadin Sgraffito

I know that, for most of you, neither Engadin nor Sgraffito have made you any wiser as to what this blog is about, so first, I’ll start off by explaining where and what they are, respectively.

Engadin (pronounced En-Ga-Deen) is a long, towering Alpine valley in the Romansh-speaking canton of Graubünden in southeast Switzerland. The first mention of this valley was in Latin as vallis Eniatina in AD 930; in the Romansh language (one of the four national languages of Switzerland), it is Engiadina. The river running through the valley is called the En or Inn, and it is the only river in Switzerland that runs (via Austria) into the Black Sea. The region is usually divided into lower and upper Engadin, and it is connected to the surrounding regions by several mountain passes.

The second word, Sgraffito, describes a plaster technique that is traditional throughout Engadin: Layers of plaster of contrasting colours are scratched through, creating intricate designs on the facades of buildings (many of the buildings in Engadin towns were built (or rebuilt) in the late 1500s to early 1600s). The word comes from the Italian graffiare, which means to scratch; it can be traced back to the Greek word graphein, meaning to write (from which we also get any words containing the prefix, suffix, or derivative of graph (graphite, typography, graptolite, parallelogram, holograph, etc.). Sgraffito is not only used on buildings to make them look decorative, but it also serves the purpose of making a small feature look larger; on one building, the same floor had different-sized windows, likely installed over generations; the sgraffito was used to give a more uniform look to the façade. The decorations also make a plain building look grander, giving a more opulent impression. One building, pictured below, obviously had two occupants with very different characters back when they were originally decorated…

The basic technique for architectural features is to plaster the façade with the base colour; once that has set, it is then plastered with a contrasting colour; once that has set just enough, the scratching, or carving, begins. This is also a technique used in pottery and in creating stained glass effects (just click on the links if you’d like to see how these crafts are made).

One thing to note is that many old buildings here in Switzerland have dates listed on them: Of when they were originally built, and when they’ve been renovated. Part of the history of such renovations may include fires that swept through villages, or avalanches that buried a layer, or wars, such as the Swabian War and war against the Habsburgs, and the subsequent renovation or rebuilding of the towns or individual homes. Sometimes, along with the dates, a list of past and present occupants will also be displayed, preserving their names and memories within the history and changes of the building itself.

Below are a few pictures taken in Engadin during our recent summer holidays. Enjoy! Feel free to zoom in on the pictures to see the details.

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Idioms Undusted: When Too Many is Too Much

I know that most of you can relate to the occasional feeling of having too many things going on at once; juggling jobs, family, civic responsibilities and household management can bring on the feeling of a hamster in a wheel, moving, moving, but not really getting anywhere!

That feeling began creeping up again for me last week, and a few idioms came to mind related to that feeling – which tells me that the condition of being overwhelmed or over-busy is an age-old challenge.

You can’t dance at two weddings

This idiom means that you can’t do two things simultaneously – you have to decide for one or the other. Sometimes that’s a tough choice – both things would be great to be involved in but, unless you’ve learned how to clone yourself, a choice must be made.

The phrase’s etymology leads us to the Yiddish language: Historically Judeo-German, Yiddish is a West Germanic language historically spoken by Ashkenazi Jews and originated in the 9th century. What I find interesting is that, about 25 years ago, when I was still learning High German alongside Swiss German (Zurich dialect), my husband was invited to perform some of his troubadour songs in a concert with several other artists; one of the groups performed in Yiddish. I could understand and follow the story of their song, while my husband and other Swiss around me couldn’t. I think it was a combination of me being a fresh learner of the two languages simultaneously, having a musical ear and, perhaps more importantly, having a Scottish accent still in my ear and a bit in my Swiss German – for me, it sounded a bit like a combination of the two! My brain combined it all, and I could follow the story – my explanation to my husband was then confirmed by their translation given after the song was over.

The idiom is likely derived from the Hebrew translation of the story in 1 Kings 18:21; the English NIV says “How long will you waver between two opinions?” but the Tanach could be read as, “How long will you hop between two platforms?”

Spread butter too thin (over too much toast)

This idiom, with a similar connotation, implies that one overcommits to too many things, leading to unsuccessful results, or leading to exhaustion or poor performance.

A good example of this idiom is happening right now in our flat: Of all the companies we’ve had to work with on the various issues of resolving water damage (the entire process began in April 2024, and no, it’s not over yet!), one company has teams in several functions – floor renovation, plastering, painting… and probably others, of which I hope I never have experience. Every single repair they’ve undertaken has been shoddy, and they’ve had to repeat the exercise – meaning we have had to move half of our flat away from floors, walls and pathways several times already as they have to re-do badly-done work! I’ve put my foot down and insisted that project managers show up and check the work before the workers are done, from now until I never have to see the company again!

The companies that concentrate their expertise on one area, such as plumbing, balcony renovation, façade renovation, or electrical repairs, have all done great work, done and dusted.

Have one’s fingers in too many pies

This idiom is similar to the butter metaphor, and it means to be involved in many different activities or projects at once, often to the point of being overstretched; It suggests a lack of focus or a tendency to dabble in various things without fully committing to any. 

Shakespeare used this imagery in Henry VIII, in which the Duke of Buckingham refers to Cardinal Wolsey: “The devil speed him! no man’s pie is freed from this ambitious finger“.

In Italian, the phrase “avere le mani in pasta” means to have one’s hand in the pies, or pasta, or simply being hands-on.

This idiom is so visual that it is difficult to trace its origins, as it likely had many concurrent origins throughout history. Shakespeare most likely wasn’t the first to use it, though he no doubt popularized it, like so many things he’s “credited” with.

Wearing too many hats

This idiom, also as “man of many hats” stems from a recent past when people wore hats on a daily basis.

Men had hats, usually bowlers, to wear in the city during the day, while they wore a different hat on the hunting field, another when riding horses, and another for evening parties. Cricketers, cowboys, players of various sports (baseball, American football, etc.), military ranks with casual uniforms or dress uniforms or combat uniforms all wear different hats.

To wear too many hats implies that a person is trying to perform too many different roles or jobs than is realistically feasible, implying that they may struggle to fulfil responsibilities effectively.

Have you had times in your lives when too many is too much? If so, let’s all learn to slow dance, eat less butter, bake fewer pies, and choose one hat at a time!

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Filed under Etymology, History, History Undusted, Linguistics, Military History