Cognate Cognizance Podcast

perdition — a noun meaning “eternal damnation” or “hell”

perdiciόn — the Spanish cognate of the same meaning

First, I’m going to share the following information taken from merriam-webster.com:

Perdition began life as a word meaning "utter destruction"; that sense is now archaic, but it provides a clue about the origins of the word. "Perdition" was borrowed into English in the 14th century from Anglo-French perdiciun and ultimately derives from the Latin verb perdere, meaning "to destroy."

That Latin verb of perdere became “perder” in Spanish, and the current use of the verb “perder” is in the meaning of “to lose.” “Perder” is a very common verb in Spanish, and anyone who studies the language encounters it fairly early in the learning process. It causes difficulty for English speakers because it’s completely different from our equivalent word of “to lose,” and because it is a stem-changing verb where the initial “e” changes to “ie” when conjugating — I won’t get into all that here, though. I don’t want to “lose” you!

Knowing the English word of “perdition” can help you remember the word “perder” in Spanish. An older meaning, now obsolete, of “perdition” is “utter loss.” If you are bound for Perdition (or Hell), then you definitely will have utterly lost everything, so there is still that “loss” connection to our current use of “perdition,” and seeing that can help you remember what “perder” means in Spanish.

Years back, there was a song by Beck called “Loser.” Part of the lyrics were “Soy un perdedor. I’m a loser, baby, so why don’t you kill me.” While I’m not a fan of that message at all, during the year or so that this song was well known by my high school students, it did help them remember the verb “perder.” Believe me, they called each other “perdedor” a LOT those years. That would be “perdedora” for all you female losers. Ha ha. Here’s a link to that song if you have any interest in listening to it: Loser

We have another lesser-used word that comes from that Latin verb of perdere. It is “perdu” which is an adjective meaning “hidden” or “concealed” — almost as if the thing is “lost.” It can also be spelled “perdue.”

Speaking of being “lost,” there are always colloquial and cultural meanings associated with words that can unintentionally get you into trouble. Years ago I was in Mexico with my friend, Silvia, who is from there and who lives there. We had gone to a large mall she’d never been to in a town we were visiting. After wandering around for a few hours, we realized we were a bit turned around and couldn’t remember how to get back to where we’d started. She hates to ask for directions, so I made a comment that I would and joked that I could say something like, “Ayudame, por favor, soy una gringa perdida.” I wasn’t actually going to say it; I was just joking with her, but that loosely translated — in my mind — to “Help me please, I’m a lost white lady.” Silvia grabbed my arm and hushed me and told me not to dare saying that because, apparently, “perdida” can also mean “lost” in the sense of “tainted” as if I were an easy lay, so to speak. Naturally, I have never told anyone in Mexico that I was “perdida” even if I happened to be hopelessly “lost” at the time. Without her informing me of this meaning of “perdida,” I easily could have given people in Mexico the wrong impression of me and a good laugh at my expense.

If you missed receiving your weekly dose of “Cognate Cognizance” last week, you can still change your subscription to a paid one and then have access to my entry about the word “emollient.”

Until next time.

Tammy Marshall

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit cognatecognizance.substack.com/subscribe

grace — for purposes of this word as a cognate, this means a pleasing effect or charm

gracia — the Spanish cognate of the same meaning

“Grace” has many definitions in English, and those translate in a variety of ways into Spanish, but the words “grace” and “gracia” come from Latin’s gratia which means “favor, charm, thanks.”

It’s that last sense of the word upon which I want to focus your attention — “Thanks.” In Spanish, the word for “thanks” is “gracias.” Because of how commonly the word is used, even non-Spanish speaking/learning people tend to know or recognize the word “gracias,” but they may not realize its connection to our word “grace.”

Think of the upcoming holiday here in the United States — Thanksgiving. What will many of us be doing? Sitting around a table with family and friends and eating, right? What will some of us do prior to eating that meal? . . . .

Give thanks? Yes, I hope so.

However, some people will do what comes naturally for them prior to any meal, and they will say “grace.” “Grace” in that sense refers to a short mealtime prayer in which a person gives thanks for what’s before them on the table and for the company with whom they are sharing the meal.

Spanish learners who are familiar with mealtime prayer and with it being called “grace” as in “saying grace,” can much more easily equate the Spanish word “gracias” with its meaning of being thankful.

“Grace” is essentially a blessing bestowed upon you; thus, it’s something to be thankful for.

In the U.S. we call the holiday Thanksgiving. It’s not celebrated outside of the U.S., but the Spanish way of referring to it is “el Día de Acción de Gracias” which literally translates as “the day of action of thanks/thanking.” Sometimes it’s shortened to “el Día de Gracias” for “the day of thanks.”

If you celebrate the holiday correctly, you take time to give thanks for the blessings you have in your life. You are essentially saying “grace” for the “graces” you have in your life. You are saying “gracias” for the “gracias” you have.

Thank you for being a reader. Muchas gracias.

If you aren’t a paying subscriber yet and would like to access last week’s post about the word “fabricate,” click the button to upgrade:

Happy Thanksgiving. Until next time.

Tammy Marshall

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit cognatecognizance.substack.com/subscribe

adjutant — one who assists or helps

ayudante — the Spanish cognate of the same meaning

At first glance, you might not think these two words are cognates because of the variations in their spellings, but they are. “Cognate,” by definition, simply means that things are related by a common ancestor, and these two words descend from the same Latin word of adjūtāre.

Knowing that the job of an “adjutant” is to “help” someone else, makes learning and remembering the very common Spanish verb of “ayudar” much easier. “Ayudar” means “to help.” Clearly, “help” and “ayuda” are NOT cognates. That’s because “help” comes straight to us from Old English while “ayuda” traveled straight into Spanish from its ancestor language of Latin.

However, in English, we DO use the word “adjutant” and even the word “adjuvant” — albeit in a lesser fashion — to mean “one who helps” or something that helps. Those words are cognates of “ayudante.” If you study Spanish, the word “ayudar” comes up early in vocabulary lists because we all need “help” at some point.

Another word that deals with helping is the word “auxiliary.” That, too, has a Spanish cognate in the word “auxiliar.” Those descend from Latin’s auxilium, which means “help.” While “auxiliary” has many definitions, its first one focuses on the aspect of “help.”

If you are ever in a Spanish-speaking country and find yourself in sudden, urgent need of “help,” simply shout “Auxilio!.” That’s like shouting “Help!” in an English-speaking country. You don’t need to understand all the Spanish in this cartoon to realize that the guy being chased by an ax-wielding maniac is in need of help or of “auxilio.”

Ironically, the word “adjutant” which etymologically should only refer to someone in a helping capacity, like an aide, can also refer to a military officer, so when someone decided to first name a type of stork who walks with a stiff marching gait, they called it the “adjutant stork.” This is not a “helping” stork, but it’s a funny image when you think about the history of the word “adjutant.” Where can I get me an adjutant stork to help me out around the house? Ha ha.

adjutant stork — Click this link for old footage of an adjutant stork walking if interested.

I hope you’ve found this entry of “Cognate Cognizance” helpful. I’m glad to serve as an “adjutant” to your understanding of words.

Friendly reminder, though, that next week’s issue will only go out to the paying subscribers, so if you haven’t upgraded your subscription yet, please do so. That way you “help” me continue to “help” you.

Thanks. Until next time.

Tammy Marshall

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit cognatecognizance.substack.com/subscribe

phantasma — a specter or apparition or something created by the imagination or fancy

fantasma — the Spanish cognate of the same meanings (the word is the same in Italian and Portuguese, too, with slight differences in pronunciation, and it is spelled only slightly differently in French — fantasme)

You may be wondering if I’ve accidently added a letter to the word “phantasm,” but I assure you that the word “phantasma” also exists in English; however, “phantasm” is more commonly used. Lesser used but also in existence is a word that looks even more like the Spanish counterpart, and that word is “fantasm.”

Middle English borrowed from Anglo-French — that “fantasme” word which hasn’t changed in modern French. That word came down through the years from Latin which got it from a Greek verb dealing with presenting something to the mind. What do we do when we “fantasize?” We present something to our minds. Thus, “fantasy,” “fantasize,” and “fantastic” all are related to “phantasms” — spooky specters that are products of our imaginations.

Or are they?

It is Halloween after all, so keep a look out for “phantasmata” roaming around — that’s the plural for “phantasma.”

In English, we have many synonyms for “phantasma.” Some that we use are “ghost,” “specter,” and “apparition.” In Spanish, those are “fantasma,” “espectro” and “apariciόn.”

We also use the word “phantom.” That, too, remains as “fantasma” in Spanish. “Phantom” can be used as an adjective in English where “phantasm” and “phantasma” are not. Something that is illusory, imaginary, or ghostly can be described using “phantom” like a “phantom pain” or a “phantom ship.”

We also use the word “phantasmagoria” and its variations to refer to “a shifting series of phantasms or deceptive appearances.” This can also be spelled as “fantasmagoria.” You’re probably not surprised to learn that there is an exact (with an accent mark) cognate for that in Spanish — “fantasmagoría.”

In music and literature, a “fantasia” is a composition in which the creator’s “fancy” has been allowed to roam freely and not force the composition to follow conventional forms. Essentially, the piece is a product of someone’s imagination. This word is “fantasía” in Spanish, and that is also the cognate for our English word of “fantasy.”

When I was still teaching Spanish, my students would associate “fantasma” with “phantom” to remember it more easily. They didn’t know the word “phantasm” and weren’t interested in learning it either. Knowing “phantasm,” though, and even better, knowing “phantasma” in English makes for a much easier cognizance of “fantasma” in Spanish or in Italian or in Portuguese.

Until next time. If you missed being able to enjoy last week’s episode, be sure to become a paid subscriber to get each week’s posting from me as well as to be able to access all the archived issues.

Happy Halloween.

Tammy Marshall

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit cognatecognizance.substack.com/subscribe

If you didn’t open my email last week, I want to explain again that since I’ve been writing “Cognate Cognizance” for over a year now, I’ve decided to make two posts a month available only to paying subscribers. That will start next week. If you enjoy receiving these each week and feel that they are beneficial to you, then please opt to become a paying subscriber — it’s only 5.00 per month or 55.00 for a year.

By becoming a paying subscriber, you will help me continue to do the one thing I truly love to do, which is write, and you will help add validity to this project that I am hoping to turn into a book down the road. So far it’s just been a labor of love, but I do work hard on it, so I don’t think it’s unfair to ask for a small amount of compensation. I hope you agree with me and will become a paying subscriber to continue receiving these each week. Thank you.

Cognate Cognizance is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Now for this week’s cognate duo.

epistle — a formal or elegant letter or a composition in the form of a letter

epístola — the Spanish cognate of the same meaning

(epistola — the Italian cognate of the same meaning)

(epistola — the Latin cognate of the same meaning)

If you attend church, you may be familiar with this word from the New Testament Epistles, but maybe you didn’t know that it meant that those were letters that been adopted as books within the New Testament. I’ve included above the Latin cognate because that came from the Greek epistole, meaning “message” or something written that was “sent.” Those original “letters” were written in Greek and then translated to Latin, and then from Latin, the word passed into other Romance languages like Italian and Spanish and then into our Germanic language of English.

I, however, am far more familiar with the word “epistle” from literature. I tend to read older books, and in them you will find people sending “epistles” to their loved ones. Many novels are written in an “epistolary” or “epistolic” fashion. This means that they are written in the form of a series of letters. “Epistolic” is “epistolico” in both Spanish and Italian.

My favorite “epistolary” novel is The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. If you’ve never read it, I encourage you to do so. The movie adaptation of it starring Lily James is well done, but the book is phenomenal.

Returning to church for a moment, if you are asked to read one of the “Epistles” then you are the “epistoler.” Another term is “epistolist,” but this can also refer to the person who writes the “epistle.” In Spanish, those terms are “epistolero” and “epistolista,” so you can see that they continue to be cognates.

Not knowing these words and their association with letter writing, I’m sure most people would assume they had something to do with “pistols,” but they do not. Ha, ha.

If you “epistolize” then you write a letter. In Spanish, that becomes “epistolizar.” Thus, in a way, right now I am epistolizing to you and sending this epistle via email instead of via the traditional letter box.

Do you enjoy music? Here is a link to Songs About Letter Writing and Sending Mail that I enjoyed: Letter songs

Until next time — next Monday if you are a paying subscriber or the Monday after next if you choose to only receive the free ones.

Have a great week. May your mailbox be full of epistles and not junk mail or bills.

Tammy Marshall

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit cognatecognizance.substack.com/subscribe

rugose — an adjective meaning “wrinkled” or being full of wrinkles

rugoso — the masculine Spanish and Italian cognate of the same meaning

rugosa — the feminine Spanish and Italian cognate of the same meaning

These cognates come from the Latin ruga which means “wrinkle.” The word “ruga” exists in English, too, where it refers to an anatomical wrinkle or fold found inside us, like in our stomach lining. When you look it up, it says it is usually used in a plural sense as “rugae.” That plural form can be pronounced in a plurality of ways — ru-guy, ru-ghee, and ru-gee. No wonder words confuse people!

As we age, our faces become more and more rugose, as do our hands and other parts of our body. Elephants, by nature, are rugose animals. In Spanish, I could say, “Un elefante es rugoso.” That’s almost exactly what it would be in Italian, too — “un elefante è rugoso.”

When talking about the wrinkles on one’s face in Spanish, though, you’d use the word “arrugas.” You can easily see that the word “ruga” is at the heart of that word. One wrinkle would be “una arruga.” If you wrinkle something, you’d need to use the verb which is “arrugar.” While “wrinkle” and “arruga” are clearly NOT cognates, knowing that root word of “ruga” makes learning and remembering “arruga” in Spanish quite easy.

A synonym of “rugose” is “rugate.” Did you know that word? I didn’t, to be honest. It has an easy cognate in Spanish of “rugato.” Knowing where “rugate” comes from makes it easy to see how we came up with the word “corrugate,” which is a verb that means “to form into folds or wrinkles with alternating ridges and grooves.” The Spanish verb cognate is “corrugar.”

We more often use the adjective of “corrugated” to describe something that has already been formed in such a way. In Spanish that would be “corrugado” or “corrugada.” They also use “ondulado” to mean “wavy,” but that’s not a cognate for “corrugated.”

Now, to throw my own small “wrinkle” into things — I’m making a change . . .

I’ve been writing “Cognate Cognizance” for over a year. Ultimately, I do hope to turn these posts into a book, but I need to compile quite a few more before I do that. As I work toward that goal, I am turning on paid subscriptions for this informational and educational weekly post. It’s set at 5.00 dollars a month or 55.00 dollars for a year. There’s also an option for you to pay more than the standard, but that’s something that’s up to you — if you think what I have to offer is worth more than what I’m asking, for example, or if you’d like to compensate me somewhat for the past year, etc..

My plan is to provide two free posts a month and two that will only go to the paid subscribers and that will be more in depth when possible. Only paid subscribers will have access to the archive of all my posts as well, so if you want to be able to go back and read anything prior to September 1st, you’ll need to pay subscribe. (Also, only paid subscribers can hear the recorded versions of the posts.)

I appreciate each and every one of you who have joined me as free subscribers, so I do want to continue to offer you something, but I’ve heard from enough people this past year to know that I am offering something fairly unique with these posts; thus, I think it’s time to earn a little for my work.

If enough of you pay to subscribe, there will be further perks down the road. If you don’t want to pay to subscribe, that is totally fine. You will still receive the two free posts each month, so stay with me.

Cognate Cognizance is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Thanks. Until next time.

Tammy Marshall

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit cognatecognizance.substack.com/subscribe

Over 500 years ago, Columbus headed west out of Spain on his historical trip. Whether you credit him with “finding” what is now known as the Americas or not, he encountered an indigenous group of people called the Taíno in the Caribbean, and that encounter led to the introduction of certain words into the Spanish language through word borrowing. When one culture comes into contact with a different culture and learns of things that do not exist back home, then that first culture will often “borrow” the words already in use — usually with a spelling and/or pronunciation change but not always.

Many of the words they borrowed later made their way into the English language as well.

One of those words is “hurricane,” a word on lots of people’s lips right now since the hurricane named Ian has recently left a wide swath of destruction in his wake.

hurricane — a tropical cyclone with winds measuring 74 miles per hour and up

huracán — the Spanish cognate of the same meaning and from which our English word came

hurakán — the Taíno word from which the Spanish and then the English word came

Prior to sailing into the Caribbean, the Spanish sailors had no previous knowledge of or experience with “hurricanes,” so there was no need for a word in the Spanish language dealing with such an event. Once they learned of such a thing and probably experienced one somewhere on a voyage or during their stay in this part of the world, they began to use the word. Then the word traveled from language to language and culture to culture.

The Taíno people had words for other things that didn’t exist back in Spain and the old world — things that we now take somewhat for granted.

“Hammock” came to us from Spanish “hamaca” which came from the Taíno language. “Barbecue” came to us from Spanish “barbacoa” which referred to the framework used to support the meat over the fire, so it could be cooked that way, and “barbacoa” came from the Taíno language and culture. These are a couple cognates that I’m happy to have in my vocabulary.

There are many more, and a quick online search will show them to you. Getting back to our cognate duo of “hurricane” and “huracán,” they both start with the letter H, but in Spanish that letter is silent, so begin the pronunciation with that U instead. (That applies to “hamaca” as well.)

Columbus Day, now often called Indigenous Peoples’ Day, is coming up. Whether you view him in a positive or a negative light and whether you credit him as being the “first” explorer to the New World or not, his trip did take him into a part of the world unknown to other Europeans prior. From that trip came many things. To me, the most interesting things gained from it were the new words that entered the Spanish language, and while Columbus and the conquistadores who followed him did in fact steal many things from the indigenous people already occupying those lands, they only borrowed words because that’s all one culture can do with another culture’s language.

I’m so sorry for all the damage left in the wake of Hurricane Ian, and my heart goes out to every person impacted by it. The property loss is astronomical, but I’m much more saddened by the loss of life and the numbers coming out of Florida that continue to grow every day. Unfortunately, hurricanes exist, and now you know where we got the word that names the phenomenon.

Until next time. Stay safe everyone.

Tammy Marshall

Thank you for reading Cognate Cognizance. This post is public so feel free to share it.

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salient — an adjective meaning that something is prominent or conspicuous or projects out, like a “salient nose”

saliente — the Spanish cognate of the same meaning, a “nariz saliente”

I’m going to admit that I didn’t know this word until I began teaching a Linguistics class about ten years ago. In that class, my primary focus was on increasing my students’ vocabularies by having them learn less-common words and the roots of those words, so they would begin to see the correlation between them and other words they already knew in English as well as in Spanish, if they’d ever taken one of my Spanish classes. That was where my love of studying cognates really began. While I’d always found them useful in Spanish class, they became something much more magical in my Linguistics class, and that’s where the idea for doing a book about cognates started. Thus, that’s where the idea for “Cognate Cognizance” began.

“Salient” is one of the first words I really remember being intrigued by. You could say it “jumped out” at me just like its ancestor, the Latin salire which means “to leap.”

In Spanish, the verb “salir” means “to go out,” like on a date with friends, but it still involves that aspect of “out.” The Spanish verb for “to leap” is “saltar,” by the way.

Knowing “salient” in English makes it very easy to learn and remember “saliente” in Spanish, and vice versa. While “salient” is most commonly used as an adjective, it can also be a noun when used to refer to a promontory, or to something that juts out.

Since these two cognates came to us from a Latin verb that refers to leaping and jumping out, it should be no surprise that the scientific term used for the order that contains frogs and toads is Salientia. Thus, the adjective “salientian” refers to creatures of that order.

Related words are “saliency” and “salience.” Both of these are nouns that simply mean “the state of being salient.” In Spanish, these usually translate to “prominencia,” which you probably can tell looks like “prominence,” or the quality of standing out.

Our word “outstanding” becomes “sobresaliente” in Spanish, which basically means that you are sticking out or leaping out at us above or over the heads of everyone else. Thus, you are “outstanding” at what you do. Finally knowing the word “salient” and then “saliente” helped me to firmly entrench that common Spanish word into my lexicon. Prior to learning “salient,” I had a heck of a time understanding the combination of “sobre” with “saliente” to get “outstanding.” Now, it all makes sense through the magic of “cognate cognizance.”

Until next time. Please share this with others who like learning about words, and encourage them to subscribe.

Tammy Marshall

Thank you for reading Cognate Cognizance. This post is public so feel free to share it.

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I’ve been writing these word posts for a year now. It’s hard to believe. I’ve covered over a hundred words and their cognates because I started this as a twice weekly posting, but then I decided to drop it down to once a week. If you’ve been with me from the start, thanks for sticking with me. If you’ve joined somewhere along the way, thanks for coming along for the ride. I’m going to continue doing these. The hope and even the plan is still to compile them into a book a some point, but for now, there are many more words out there to discuss.

anniversary — the yearly recurrence of a special date

aniversario — the Spanish cognate of the same meaning

anniversario — the Italian cognate of the same meaning

At the root of these words is the Latin word annus which means “year.” We’ve come to use the word “anniversary” in a much looser way to acknowledge a special date even weeks or months after it happened. Thus, we say things like, “It’s our six-month anniversary.” While this is all fine and dandy, it’s kind of comical, too, when you think about it since the word is based upon the Latin word for “year.” In reality, an “anniversary” can only be used to mark something that comes around yearly, or annually.

“Annual” also has the word annus as its root. An “annual” occurrence happens each year. In high school, I was editor of our yearbook, and we always called it the “annual” because it came out once a year, unlike the school newspaper which came out monthly. The Spanish cognate is “anual,” and the Italian one is “annuale.”

Knowing that these words refer to things that happen on a yearly basis and that they come from the word annus helps you learn and easily remember the Spanish word for “year.” It is “año.” It is used often, so it comes up early in Spanish vocabulary lessons.

When you want to say how old you are in Spanish, you are actually announcing how many years you have. Thus, you say something like, “Tengo treinta años” for “I’m thirty years old.” (Literally, it translates to “I have thirty years.”)

The word pops up in the common Spanish word of “cumpleaños” which means “birthday.” Essentially, it’s the day in which you “complete” another “year.” The Italian word for “year” is “anno” which is much similar to its Latin ancestor, and the Italian word for “birthday” is “compleanno.” You can see that it’s very similar to the Spanish word.

In tracking our dates, we use the term A.D. This is Italian for “anno Domini,” which means “the year of our Lord.”

Hopefully, in a year, I’ll be acknowledging the second “anniversary” of “Cognate Cognizance.” Help me grow my readership by sharing this with others who are interested in words.

Thanks.

Tammy Marshall

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This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit cognatecognizance.substack.com/subscribe

majesty — sovereign power; a royal personage, or, when capitalized, a title used to address or refer to the reigning king or queen

majestad — the Spanish cognate of the same meanings

I felt compelled to address this word after the passing of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, last week. After such a long reign, there will be many tributes to her, so this is my very humble addition to those. I enjoyed the Netflix series, “The Crown,” so much that I felt incredibly saddened at her passing even though she wasn’t my queen and I certainly never knew her in person, but I did feel like I’d come to know her a little, and I definitely admired her.

Back to our cognate duo. If you make them into adjectives, you get “majestic” in English and “majestuoso” (masculine singular) and “majestuosa” (feminine singular) in Spanish. These words, though, all hearken back to Latin’s major, meaning “greater.”

Thus, when we speak of the “majesty” of the mountains or describe a scene as “majestic,” we are saying that it has a quality of being “greater” than other mountains or other similar scenes. Here we have “a majestic mountain,” or “una montaña majestuosa.”

“Major” in English can be translated a variety of ways in Spanish, depending on its meaning, but it does have a cognate of “mayor” when dealing with age. “Major” means that someone is of full adult age or greater in extent at something. “Mayor” refers to age in the sense of being “older.” You might have an “older brother” which would be “hermano mayor.”

We see that base word “mayor” in the word “mayoría” which is the cognate for “majority.” It’s not an exact cognate, but when you know that “mayor” is the cognate for “major” you can easily see “mayoría” as a cognate for “majority.” These words build upon that Latin base word’s definition of “greater” because you can only have a “majority” if there is a “greater” number of something.

In English there are many expressions that use “major” or words that come from it. I wrote about “majuscule” in an earlier post. Do you remember what it means? It’s a capital letter, or a letter of a “greater” size. Its Spanish cognate? “Mayúscula.”

If you like to travel, maybe you’ve heard of the Spanish island called “Majorca.” Can you guess why it’s called that? Because it’s the “largest” or “greatest” of the Balearic Islands in the Mediterranean Sea.

Sadly, Her Majesty has passed on. Now, there is a king, so it will be His Majesty. He’s got some big shoes to fill, and I wish him well.

Thanks for being a subscriber. Share with others who like learning about words.

Until next time.

Tammy Marshall

Thank you for reading Cognate Cognizance. This post is public so feel free to share it.

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