The names of provinces in any country can be seen as a road map of the people who lived there: the conquering, the conquered, the vainglorious, and the descriptive. The United States is no different. The East Coast is draped with the names of kings and the poetry of conquistadors, while the northern and western parts of the country are largely sprinkled with indigenous words and phrases that have all but lost their original meanings. Without further ado, let’s have a closer look at this patchwork tapestry.

 

Alabama is likely from a Choctaw term meaning “plant-cutters.”

Alaska is from the Aleut word alaxsxaq, which means, “the object toward which the action of the sea is directed,” or perhaps more succinctly, “the coastline.”

Arizona is a Spanish transliteration of an O’odham word meaning “having a little spring,” probably not in reference to the Colorado River. The O’odham are an Aztec offshoot that were frequently called Piman by the Spanish. This is probably because, when the Europeans asked them who they were, they replied “pi mac,” which means “I don’t know.” Y’know, because language barrier.

Arkansas is a French transliteration of the word used by the Algonquian peoples to describe the Quapaw, a Sioux tribe that lived on the Arkansas River.

California was named by Spanish explorers after a fictional place in a 1510 novel of Garci (Ordóñez) Rodríguez de Montalvo, whose works are compared to those which make up Arthurian legend. The name may as well be Arrakis or Hogwarts, as the word does not mean anything in particular.

Colorado was named after the Colorado River. The Spanish word simply means “colored,” and implies a reddish, weather-beaten hue.

Connecticut is from the Algonquian quinnitukqut, “at the long tidal river.”

Delaware was named for the first English colonial governor of, ironically, Virginia, Thomas West, 3rd Baron De La Warr. The word is roughly French for “of the war,” or “warrior.”

Florida was discovered by the Spanish in 1513 on Palm Sunday, one name for which is Pascua florida, or “flowering Easter.”

Georgia was named for King George II of Great Britain. As a side note, the Caucasian country Georgia was named for Saint George.

Hawaii is Proto-Polynesian for “place of the gods.”

Idaho is from the Kiowa-Apache word idaahe, meaning “enemy,” used to describe the Comanches.

Illinois comes from an Algonquian tribe who called themselves ilinouek, or “ordinary speaker.”

Indiana was named for the “Indians” in the Americas, who were, of course, not actually from India at all. The word originally derives from Sanskrit sindhu, the same root as the word Hindu, and it means “river.”

Iowa comes from Dakota ayuxba, or “sleepy ones,” describing the Chiwere people who lived there. I feel like we can just name the entire country “Iowa” without much difficulty.

Kansas shares the same root as Arkansas.

Kentucky probably comes from an Iroquoian word meaning “meadow,” something like geda’geh.

Louisiana was named after King Louis XIV of France, deriving from Old High German Hluodowig, “famous in war.”

Maine comes from the name of a French province. The word is Gaulish, probably in reference to “mainland.”

Maryland was named after the wife of King Charles I of England, Henrietta Maria of France.

Massachusetts is Algonquian for “at the large hill,” because there’s a big hill southwest of Boston.

Michigan was named after the lake, probably Old Ojibwe meshi-gami, which means “big lake.” So Lake Michigan is “Lake Big Lake.”

Minnesota is from Dakota mnisota, which means “cloudy water,” in reference to a river.

Mississippi was, of course, named after the river, originally an Ojibwe construction, mshi ziibi, or “big river.” There we go again. The Mississippi River is the “big river river.”

Missouri is from an Algonquian word meaning “people of the big canoes,” in reference to Chiwere tribes from that region.

Montana is just Spanish for “mountain place,” because of all the Rocky Mountains there.

Nebraska is from the Omaha word ni braska, which means “flat river.”

Nevada was named after the Sierra Nevada mountain range on the border. The word is Spanish for “snowy.”

New Hampshire was named after the English county of Hampshire. Hampshire, similar to Hampton, comes from Old English hamtunscir, which simply refers to a village-town and its surrounding farmlands.

New Jersey was named for the Channel Island of Jersey. The word probably either comes from Old Norse jarl (earl) or somebody’s name.

New Mexico was not actually named after the country of Mexico. The state, then a province of New Spain, was named in 1598 — that’s 220 years before Mexico gained independence and named itself. The word is Aztecan mexihco, of unknown origin.

New York was renamed from New Netherland, from when the Dutch East India Company set up shop for the lucrative fur and trading opportunities. It was renamed after British acquisition in honor of future King James II, then Duke of York and Albany. The word York eventually derives from ancient Celtic Eborakon, or “Yew tree estate.”

North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia were all one state until the early 1700’s, when governing disagreements caused many of the Lords Proprietor to sell their shares back to the crown. Carolina was named in honor of King Charles I of England (Latin Carolus).

North Dakota was named for the Dakota tribe, who spoke Sioux. Their word, dakhota, means “friendly.”

Ohio was named after the river, with the Seneca word ohiyo, which means “good river.”

Oklahoma is from a Choctaw construction, okla homma, which means “people who are red.” Daniel Snyder is vindicated.

Oregon is probably originally Algonquian, but we don’t know what it means!

Pennsylvania means “Penn’s woods.” Penn is Welsh for “head,” sylvania is Latin for “woods.” It was named not after William Penn, the founder of the colony, but rather his late father, also William Penn. Will wanted to name it “New Wales.” That’d be fun.

Rhode Island was probably an extension of the Dutch name given to Block Island, Roodt Eylandt, or “red island.”

South Carolina shares the same origin as North Carolina.

South Dakota was separated from North Dakota in 1889 on account of population growth. Name origin is shared.

Tennessee is named for a Cherokee village Ta’nasi, the meaning of which is lost.

Texas is a Spanish transliteration of a Caddo word, taysha, which means “friends.” Is it time to change the state’s motto to “I’ll be there for you?” *clap clap clap clap*

Utah is from Western Apache yudah, or “high.” As in mountainous, not as in stoned, considering the large Mormon population. Though Colorado is next door.

Vermont sort of means “green mountain” in French, but the correct form would be “Mont Vert,” so maybe the person who named it didn’t actually know French very well?

Virginia was named, of course, after the Virgin Queen of England, Elizabeth.

Washington was named after George Washington. The word is Old English for “Wassa’s house.”

West Virginia was originally part of Virginia but split during the Civil War.

Wisconsin was named after the river, but the origin of the word is unknown.

Wyoming comes from a region on the other side of the country, in Pennsylvania. It’s from an Algonquian word, chwewamink, which means “at the big river flat.” They named the state Wyoming because they had nothing better to call it, I guess?

 

So that’s the end of the tour. Hopefully you’ve discovered whether your favorite state is friendly or sleepy or even if you’re a “Jarlsey girl.” See you next week!

This week’s special Lingwizardry is brought to you by our resident historian, Kevin Hillman.

Every year, Merriam-Webster adds new words to the dictionary. And every year, we bemoan the addition of lingo like “LOL” and “sext” to our official lexicon, as though it is indicative of the downfall of society. But these words, primarily created in the Internet age, are part of a long American tradition.

See, unlike the French, who have an Académie that regulates their language, English, particularly American English, has a long tradition of democratization. So while it is easy to whine about kids and their PDAs and typewriters ruining good ol’ American words, remember that it is nothing new, and an evolving language is really OK.

Actually, “OK” is the perfect example of how Americans have democratized the English language in the past 200 years. “OK” sounds like a word that would have been invented in the Internet age alongside LOL and WTF. The word, in all its simplicity, actually predates Internet lingo by about 155 years. It sounds like an acronym and looks like one, too, but ask people what “OK” stands for and very few could give you the answer. Most signs point to “OK” meaning “orl korrekt,” which you might recognize as making no damn sense whatsoever.

It turns out that American men and women of the 1830s actually had a sense of humor, and even though they were among the few people in the world who were actually literate, they liked to misspell words and make weird acronyms. You might recognize this as common practice for anyone who’s ever sent a text message. “Orl korrekt” was a purposely corrupted spelling of “all correct” and took on its meaning, and, as was hip at the time, was then shortened to simply “OK”.

This democratization of language was a direct result of the Declaration of Independence. Following the American Revolution, common folk began to see themselves as human beings on an equal footing with their supposed social betters. The American aristocracy (Greek aristokratía, from aristos, “excellent,” and kratos, “power”) certainly didn’t love the idea, but it came with the territory after claiming that “all men were created equal.”

The first and second generations born after the American Revolution had taken its purported goals to heart and began democratizing institutions everywhere. This democratization led to the drastic divisions in the Protestant Church, which created several new sects due to popular differences in interpretation. Politics became less about deferring to the greater sort and more about selecting the guy who agreed with your views — or bought you beer.

It also affected much of our language, with Mister, Madame, and other honorifics coming into common use for common folks, as opposed to being reserved for the upper class. Democratization of the English language meant the spelling of some words was changed to align with more common usage, a practice that exists to this day and can cause a lot of confusion.

Even the word “democracy” itself took on new meaning — or, at least, new connotations. To the Founding Generation, “democracy” (Greek dēmokratía, from dēmos, “people,” and kratos, “power”) was a dirty word, used in disgust and largely viewed as describing “mob rule.” Many of the founders of the American Republic thought the common people just weren’t capable of ruling themselves, which is the reason we have a Senate and an Electoral College and don’t pass laws based on referendum the way the Athenians did things.

The change in tone for “democracy” came at about the same time as the rise of “OK” — and largely thanks to the same man. “OK” was perhaps the biggest product of American linguistic democracy. An abbreviation and misspelling fad in 19th-century Boston created the most commonly understood word in the 21st-century world. Its simplicity and catchiness gave it tremendous spreading power. But “OK” never would have spread far outside of the working classes of Boston if not for the most important president in the history of the United States.

Of course, I’m speaking of Martin Van Buren. The eighth president of the United States and key founder of the Democratic Party began his life in Kinderhook (Dutch for “children’s corner”), New York, and was of Dutch ancestry. The first “ethnic” President, Van Buren actually spoke Dutch as his primary language. Van Buren was also the first president born after the American Revolution, making him the first president born a U.S. citizen — and making the “This is America, so speak English,” argument look a bit absurd. Van Buren, the son of a tavern keeper, had no love for the aristocratic ways of Old America and was a strong advocate for giving a voice to the common man.

In the early 1820s, Americans believed party politics was dead. The Democratic-Republicans of Thomas Jefferson were the only viable political party left, having defeated the Federalists soundly and frequently. With the election of 1824, however, that all changed. With four different candidates on the presidential ballot, no man was able to secure a victory, and the race was thrown into the House of Representatives, which awarded the election to John Quincy Adams. Popular favorite Andrew Jackson was furious, and Van Buren, with his brilliant political mind, saw an opportunity.

The country was shifting from the days of the Revolution, which romanticized the ancient Roman Republic and the ideals of disinterested leadership, to the second generation of American political leaders and an affinity for all things Ancient Greece. Hence the shift in popularity of the word “democracy” as well as its philosophy, which was associated with Ancient Greek government.

Van Buren understood the shift better than anyone. After the election of 1824, Van Buren began assembling an opposition party against Adams by using the prestige and stature of Old Hickory. Jackson, viewed as a hero of the people, was able to garner support from all around the country, as common men viewed his rough nature and gruff attitude as proof that he was just like them. His immense popularity led to Adams leaving after only one term in office, as Jackson, the people’s chosen representative, was elected in 1828, establishing the Democratic Party as a force to be reckoned with.

Van Buren had built a party from the ground up and changed the way we look at politics — and our own language. Van Buren, in the tradition of Jefferson, changed the connotation of “democracy” into a positive one. The first generation born under the Declaration of Independence was seeing to its promise of equality for all — err, all white men anyway.

1836 was Van Buren’s year to take up his party’s mantle. He took on the Whig candidate, William Henry Harrison, and was victorious in a landslide, largely thanks to the popularity of the incumbent. In 1840, however, Van Buren was not so lucky.

Van Buren’s Democratic Party and the Whigs who opposed it established what we would consider the modern political system. The elections were no longer about issues but more about appealing to the masses with slogans and sound bites. Harrison’s Whig Party ran with “Tippecanoe and Tyler Too” in reference to Harrison’s military victory in the Battle of Tippecanoe and his running mate, John Tyler. They also perpetuated the myth that Harrison, like Van Buren and Jackson, was a common man’s hero, born in a log cabin on the frontier — which he certainly was not. Harrison was Virginia aristocracy, born in a comfortable mansion, with a father who signed the Declaration of Independence. The log cabin image, however, caught on.

Van Buren, despite being the son of a tavern keeper, was portrayed as a wealthy, aristocratic snob. You may recognize these tactics, as they still exist to this day, with the best example being George W. Bush, a Yale legacy and son of a president convincing the country that he was a Washington outsider and a cowboy.

To combat the Whigs, the Democrats began calling Van Buren “Old Kinderhook,” or “OK” for short, in reference to his hometown. “Old Kinderhook” used the nickname to gather grassroots support, but was ultimately defeated by Tippecanoe and his Log Cabin campaign, proving that perception is everything when it comes to politics.

On the bright side, the race greatly popularized the use of the word “OK”, with it reaching all corners of a country which had only a president and a common language uniting it. The introduction of the telegraph and the railroad, which signaled the birth of mass communication, meant that “OK” would spread across the nation, just like the Internet did for “LOL” and “sext”.

In time, our language further evolved, with “OK” now being written as “okay” in most of our conversations.

Today, we honor Old Kinderhook’s memory by invoking his nickname in every single conversation we have. So remember, Old Kinderhook may not make your list of top ten U.S. presidents — unless you rank them in chronological order — but Martin Van Buren did popularize the most American of words, and that is pretty OK.

Today is Memorial Day in the United States, the day that marks the unofficial start of summer, and the day we honor and remember those who died in military service to the country.

We live in a relatively peaceful time here in the States. While I know a few soldiers or veterans from my generation, I haven’t personally known anyone who died in the Iraq or Afghanistan wars. Of course, over 6,700 have given their lives in these and other recent military engagements since the year 2000, but the days when U.S. soldiers would come back in body bags by the thousands seem to be mostly behind us, as our technology continues to outpace that of the third-world militias against which we tend to fight, and as machines take over much of the riskier jobs.

The good news, of course, is that we have fewer service men and women to mourn. The only trouble is that, because of our lack of practice, we’ve collectively grown worse at mourning and honoring those who have died for us in the past, and those who continue to die for us in the present. We do have a lot of great Memorial Day sales, though, right? So that’s something.

Memorial Day as we know it came out of the American Civil War. While the true origin is a point of some contention, ranging from observances held in Waterloo, New York, to Boalsburg, Pennsylvania, to Warrenton, Virginia, to Savannah, Georgia, there came about a common practice between 1861 and 1864 of decorating the graves of soldiers with flowers. Of course, graves have been decorated with flowers before that, but the establishment of a broad tradition of so adorning the graves of soldiers, specifically, began in response to the Civil War’s massive casualties, which reached somewhere around 600,000 to 700,000 by the end.

In fact, the holiday was called “Decoration Day” until 1967, shortly before the passage of the “Uniform Monday Holiday Act.” That law designated it, along with Columbus Day, Veterans Day, and Washington’s Birthday (now more commonly called Presidents Day) to always fall on Mondays in order to create convenient three-day weekends. Prior to that, Memorial Day occurred May 30 every year.

So, we have parades and grave decoration and flags flying at half-staff, but the day is no longer called Decoration Day, but Memorial Day. What’s the best way to go about remembering? The word “memory” is closely linked with the word “mind.” They share common roots, such as Greek merimna (“care, thought”), Latin memini (“remembrance”), and Old English murnan (“mourn, remember sorrowfully”).

The Norse giant Mímir (“rememberer, wise one”) had his head cut off in the Æsir-Vanir War, and the god Odin carried Mímir’s head around with him, apparently in order to hear the dead, beheaded giant speak secret knowledge to him. A similar word is “mnemonic,” which comes from Greek mnemonos (“mindful, remembering”). The goddess Mnemosyne birthed the nine Muses and presided over a pool in the underworld, granting memories back to those who had drunk from the river Lethe and forgotten their past lives.

So we remember our fallen soldiers by visiting their graves and decorating them with flowers. We symbolically give them life for a day out of the year. What have other cultures done to honor and remember their dead?

The Aztecs didn’t bury their dead at all, but burned them, as offering to the sun god. The dead (and the soon-to-be-dead via sacrificial knife wound) would be dressed in ceremonial garb and burned at the holy ziggurat. This also had the side effect of limiting the spread of disease. When warriors died afield, their bodies were burned en masse after the battle, and one of their arrows was returned home … to be dressed in ceremonial garb and burned in their stead.

In the time of Vikings, Scandinavians were often sent off in a small funeral boat with some of their treasured possessions. The boat would then be lit on fire, again to limit the spread of disease. A dead warrior’s soul was said to be escorted to Valhalla by the valkyrie (“chooser of the slain”), warlike maidens who may or may not be Odin’s daughters. The warriors then became einherjar (“fighters for a single time”), who eat of a beast that resurrects each night and train to fight in Ragnarök (“conjured fate”), the final battle that will destroy the world and create it anew.

Egyptians buried their dead rather than lighting them on fire. Rich Egyptians might afford mummification, including all the necessary preparations and spells (like pulling liquid brains out of the nose with a hook) that would make it most likely the person’s spirit would be welcomed into the afterlife by the gods. Common foot soldiers likely would have been put along with some of their best possessions into a pit, where the heat and dryness would preserve the body to some degree. That way, their ba and ka (sort of like their mind and their agency) might unite and become ahk, which is sort of a benevolent ghost energy, ideally watching over and protecting their living loved ones.

Maybe this Memorial Day, you don’t know any soldiers who’ve given their lives in service. If you do, though, you might try branching out in how you remember them. Decorate their graves with flowers, sure, but how about burning one of their arrows, cheering them on in their Ragnarök training, or saluting their ahk, which may be floating around you as you’re reading this?

Probably just stick with the flower thing.