Dwain Northey (Gen X)

 It’s funny how many expressions we use every day without ever stopping to ask what they actually mean.

There are some phrases that have become so ingrained in our language that nobody ever stops to ask the obvious question.

What in the hell does that even mean?

Take this month. Every August you’ll hear somebody say, “Ah… the dog days of summer.”

Really? According to who? Was there a committee of Labradors that got together and decided August belonged to them?

As a kid I pictured exhausted dogs lying under porches trying to survive the heat. It seemed reasonable enough. Dogs pant. August is hot. Mystery solved.

Turns out, that’s not it at all.

The phrase actually goes back thousands of years to the ancient Greeks and Romans. They noticed that the star Sirius—appropriately nicknamed the Dog Star—rose in the sky during the hottest part of the summer. They believed its appearance somehow contributed to the unbearable heat. Whether it actually did is beside the point. The name stuck.

Thousands of years later we’re still talking about the “dog days” even though most of us have absolutely no clue that a star is involved.

Language is weird like that.

It’s full of verbal fossils.

They’re little pieces of history we carry around every day without realizing we’re hauling around centuries of forgotten context.

Why do we “hang up” a phone that hasn’t had a hook in decades?

Why do we “roll” the window down in a car when there’s nothing left to roll?

Why do we “dial” a number on a screen with no dial?

Why do we save computer files with an icon shaped like a floppy disk that an entire generation has never actually held in their hands?

We keep using the words long after the original objects disappear.

The words survive.

The meanings quietly evolve.

Sometimes I wonder how many sayings I repeat simply because everyone else repeats them. I understand what they mean in conversation, but if someone stopped me and asked where they came from, I’d probably shrug and make something up.

It’s a reminder that language isn’t nearly as logical as we’d like to believe. It’s more like a giant attic. Every generation tosses another box up there. Some boxes get opened often. Others collect dust until someone stumbles across them and says, “Wait… why do we say that?”

I kind of like that.

Every odd expression is a breadcrumb left behind by people who lived centuries before us. Sometimes it’s astronomy. Sometimes it’s sailing. Sometimes it’s farming. Sometimes it’s technology that’s been obsolete longer than some of us have been alive.

We inherit all of it.

So now when someone says we’re in the dog days of summer, I’ll nod knowingly, fully aware they’re talking about an ancient star named Sirius and not a bunch of overheated golden retrievers.

Although, to be fair, if you’ve ever been outside in August, those golden retrievers probably have the right idea.