One of the most famous naval heroes in history suffered from seasickness.

  • Horatio Nelson aboard the HMS Elephant
Horatio Nelson aboard the HMS Elephant
Credit: Hulton Archive via Getty Images
Author Timothy Ott
March 13, 2025

Love it?

Britain’s celebrated Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson was essentially the living embodiment of the hardscrabble “Four Yorkshiremen” of the classic Monty Python sketch. As a young naval officer, he lost sight in his right eye from gravel strewn by an incoming cannonball. A few years later, he had his right arm amputated — without anesthetic — after being shot in the heat of another battle. Lord Nelson also weathered the debilitating effects of malaria, yellow fever, tuberculosis, scurvy, and dysentery at various points in his life. But the cruelest affliction may well have been the seasickness that plagued him for the duration of his three-plus decades at sea.

This unfortunate condition was revealed to many with the public display of an 1804 letter in which Lord Nelson, then head of the British fleet in the Mediterranean, described his longtime struggles with boat-rocking waves. “I am ill every time it blows hard and nothing but my enthusiastic love for my profession keeps me one hour at sea,” he wrote. Yet the seasickness hardly kept him from achieving stunning victories at the 1798 Battle of the Nile and the 1801 Battle of Copenhagen, the latter of which famously featured him holding a telescope to his blind eye and pretending not to see an order to retreat. While his death amid the British triumph over Napoleon’s army at the 1805 Battle of Trafalgar kept him from enjoying the spoils of success like the Monty Python characters, Nelson did them one better by becoming the first nonroyal to receive a state funeral at St. Paul’s Cathedral.

In 1960, one in five American households didn’t have a car.

  • Classic convertible at 1960s home
Classic convertible at 1960s home
Credit: © steinphoto—iStock/Getty Images
Author Michael Nordine
May 7, 2026

Love it?

There were more than 278 million registered vehicles in the United States as of 2022, which is to say there are almost as many cars and motorcycles in America as there are Americans — about 342 million at last count. The number of vehicles was a good deal lower in 1960, when one in every five households didn’t own a car at all. 

That year, about 57% of American households had one car, 19% had two, and 2.5% had three or more. Today, only 9% of households don’t own a car at all, while 33.8% have one, 37.6% have two, and 19.5% own three or more. Trucks are especially popular, accounting for 170 million of the 278 million vehicles in the country.

Car ownership soared in the economic boom that followed World War II, with the number of registered vehicles rising from 27.5 million in 1940 to 61.5 million in 1960. Automobile culture has become only more entrenched in the decades since, especially in rural areas: More than 96% of households in both Idaho and Wyoming report owning at least one car, the highest rate in the nation. On the other end of the spectrum is New York City, where just 44% of households own a vehicle — the only major city in the country where car ownership is under 50%.

Only one U.S. president has had a Ph.D.

  • Woodrow Wilson at Princeton
Woodrow Wilson at Princeton
Credit: North Wind Picture Archives/ Alamy Stock Photo
Author Michael Nordine
September 25, 2024

Love it?

Most U.S. presidents have attained some form of higher education, and there are a number of commanders in chief with law degrees, but only one received a Ph.D.: Woodrow Wilson. After beginning his undergraduate career at Davidson College in 1873, Wilson transferred to the College of New Jersey (now Princeton University) and studied political philosophy and history. He next attended the University of Virginia School of Law, though he withdrew during his second year. He managed to become a lawyer anyway, but quickly grew bored and chose to pursue a Ph.D. in history and political science instead. He did so at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, completing his doctorate in 1886.

While there, he wrote a book called Congressional Government: A Study in American Politics that was published before he graduated. Wilson’s time in academia didn’t end there, however. After teaching at Bryn Mawr College and Wesleyan University, he returned to his alma mater — first as a professor, and then as the 13th president of Princeton. He served in that role from 1902 to 1910, when he launched his successful bid for governor of New Jersey, and later won the 1912 presidential election with 435 electoral votes. 

Listerine was originally a surgical antiseptic.

  • Vintage Listerine ad
Vintage Listerine ad
Credit: © The Reading Room/Alamy
Author Michael Nordine
May 7, 2026

Love it?

When chemist Joseph Lawrence developed Listerine in 1879, he didn’t have bad breath in mind. Inspired by surgeon Joseph Lister, who pioneered antiseptic medicine, Lawrence formulated and sold the product bearing Lister’s name as a surgical antiseptic. Other applications for his invention that failed to catch on in the marketplace include floor cleaner, hair tonic, dandruff cure, deodorant, and “beneficial remedy” for such diseases as dysentery, diphtheria, smallpox, and gonorrhea. Eventually, Lawrence licensed the product to Jordan Wheat Lambert, a local pharmacist in St. Louis, and it was he who began selling it to dentists in 1895 as a mouthwash and disinfectant.

Listerine first became available as an over-the-counter mouthwash in 1914, but it didn’t achieve widespread popularity until the following decade, and minor changes to the formula were made over time. That was when Lambert’s son began an aggressive marketing campaign that pitched Listerine as the cure for chronic halitosis, better known as bad breath. 

Bad breath wasn’t a major social concern at the time, but as authors Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner wrote in Freakonomics: “Listerine changed that. As the advertising scholar James B. Twitchell writes, ‘Listerine did not make mouthwash as much as it made halitosis.’ In just seven years, the company’s revenues rose from $115,000 to more than $8 million.” The next time you’re feeling self-conscious about your breath, you can think of mouthwash as both the source of, and solution to, your problem.

The baby boom caused a nationwide diaper shortage.

  • Woman tying a baby’s diaper, 1955
Woman tying a baby's diaper, 1955
Harold M. Lambert/ Archive Photos via Getty Images
Author Nicole Villeneuve
March 6, 2025

Love it?

Living in America during World War II often meant going without everyday necessities. At the end of the war, ration restrictions were lifted, but the U.S. still found itself in short supply of a crucial item: diapers. The country was in the nascent stages of a postwar baby boom, and as the young population surged with soldiers returning home and starting families, cloth diaper production remained in its wartime slowdown. 

Government agencies such as the War Production Board (WPB) denied the diaper shortage and said manufacturing was on pace to meet the demand. But textile insiders said otherwise, claiming that after the war, manufacturers had shifted looms away from diaper cloth to make more profitable cotton fabrics. The National Institute of Diaper Services blamed government officials who were not fathers and therefore didn’t understand infant needs, while retailers said shipments were not arriving quickly enough. On top of everything else, diaper prices were on the rise. Ultimately, frustrated parents and caregivers were left navigating the consequences.

The shortage wasn’t entirely unexpected. Diaper services — which, before the advent of disposables, collected soiled diapers and delivered fresh ones — were already under strain before the baby boom was in full swing. In 1943, wartime fuel rations made it difficult to run delivery trucks, and with many women working in war industries, fewer families had the time or resources to wash diapers at home. In June 1946, John K. Jones, president of the National Institute of Diaper Services, introduced a new folding technique in an attempt to help families cope with the ongoing shortage. Known today as the “kite fold,” it involved folding the corners of a diaper to create extra thickness in the center, making the diaper more absorbent and thus ideally able to last longer than a traditional triangle fold. The diaper shortage made headlines across the country for years, but by 1947, mention of it had tapered off.

Victorian doctors prescribed beards. 

  • Bearded man, late 19th century
Bearded man, late 19th century
Credit: Pictorial Press Ltd/ Alamy Stock Photo
Author Sarah Anne Lloyd
August 14, 2025

Love it?

The well-coiffed men of the Victorian era wore finely tailored suits, trim waistcoats, and fancy statement hats. These men also, in contrast to their generally prim and proper aesthetic, sometimes had truly impressive beards. The Victorian “beard movement,” which started around 1850, was partially about looking manly and rugged — especially after British soldiers came back from the Crimean War unshaven in 1856. But beards were also, according to some medical professionals at the time, a way to ward off disease.

At the time, many doctors endorsed the miasma theory of disease, which (incorrectly) held that illnesses such as Britain’s common cholera outbreaks were caused by bad air. (To be fair, rampant air pollution was making people sick, just not in ways that scientists understood at the time.) Facial hair, some reasoned, could provide a natural filter against breathing in so-called “miasms.”

“[T]he moustache is emphatically nature’s simple respirator, while the hair covering the jaws and throat is intended to afford warmth and protection,” one doctor wrote in the Edinburgh Medical Journal in 1861. Clergymen and other public speakers were particularly encouraged to have beards to protect their voices.

Beards started losing popularity by the 1880s. Changing standards of masculinity played a role, but the medical justification was also weakening as microbial biology and germ theory took hold. Beards, it turns out, can hold a lot of microbes.

The first known use of ‘OMG’ was in a letter to Winston Churchill.

  • Winston Churchill, 1939
Winston Churchill, 1939
Credit: Evening Standard/ Hulton Archive via Getty Images
Author Darren Orf
November 15, 2023

Love it?

Winston Churchill’s remarkable life was filled with genuine “OMG” moments, from withstanding the disastrous Gallipoli campaign during the First World War to leading Britain through World War II as prime minister. Churchill held a front-row seat to many history-defining moments, even including the little-known origin of the term “OMG” itself

The expression “OMG,” an acronym for “oh my god,” became popular as early internet lingo during the 1990s. But the first known use of the acronym actually dates back to a letter written to Churchill in 1917, while he was serving as first lord of the admiralty in the British navy. The letter was written by John Arbuthnot Fisher, who, as first sea lord (the navy’s highest ranking officer), often quarreled with Churchill.  In the 1917 missive, Fisher wrote, “I hear that a new order of Knighthood is on the tapis [table] — O.M.G. (Oh! My God!) — Shower it on the Admiralty!!” Sadly for the linguistically hip Fisher, neither Churchill, the navy, nor the British people adopted his clever quip. It wasn’t until the arrival of the internet age some 70 years later that the “OMG” acronym exploded in popularity. 

Toothpaste used to be radioactive.

  • Young girl brushing her teeth
Young girl brushing her teeth
Credit: © E. HIBBS—ClassicStock/Alamy
Author Michael Nordine
April 30, 2026

Love it?

As with many world-changing discoveries, people initially went a bit overboard with radioactivity. The atomic process that causes radiation was discovered by Henri Becquerel in 1896 and studied further by Marie and Pierre Curie in the following years. And while radiation exposure is now known to be highly lethal, in the early 20th century, products with radioactive properties were believed to be beneficial to one’s health. 

One such item was Doramad, a toothpaste made by the German company Auergesellschaft, which used traces of thorium (a radioactive element) in its teeth-cleaning formula. Advertisements urged customers to “protect yourself by using the biologically active, radioactive, Doramad toothpaste.” (If this ad didn’t make you want to brush your teeth, what would?) 

Doramad’s packaging included the description, “Special biological healing effects by radium rays. A thousand times medically prescribed and recommended.” And the back of the tube claimed the following: “What does Doramad do? Through its radioactivity, it increases the defenses of teeth and gums. The cells are charged with a new vigorous life energy, which inhibits bacteria in their destructive ability. Hence the exquisite prevention and healing effect on gum diseases.” 

Radioactive elements were thought to have beneficial health properties at the time, including for teeth; we now know that the opposite is true, of course. Doramad was sold from the 1920s until the end of World War II, by which point the dangers of radiation were better understood — including by scientists on both sides of the conflict attempting to develop a nuclear bomb.

In 1932, Australia declared a ‘war’ against emus (and lost).

  • Wandering Outback emus
Wandering Outback emus
Credit: robynmac/ iStock
Author Michael Nordine
November 21, 2023

Love it?

Australia is known for its unique wildlife, not all of which is friendly. In 1932, the country received a harsh reminder of that when a drought caused some 20,000 emus to move inland in search of water during their breeding season, disrupting farmers’ crops in the process. The ostrich-like birds had already had their classification downgraded from “native species” to “vermin” despite being endemic to Australia and appearing on its coat of arms alongside the kangaroo, and this mass migration made them public enemy No. 1. The government sent in World War I veterans to assist the beleaguered farmers, and though they were outfitted with machine guns, they soon found themselves overwhelmed by their flightless foes. Emus are fairly imposing, to be fair — among all bird species, only ostriches and cassowaries are larger. 

“The machine-gunners’ dreams of point-blank fire into serried masses of Emus were soon dissipated,” observed D.L. Serventy, an Australian ornithologist. “The Emu command had evidently ordered guerrilla tactics, and its unwieldy army soon split up into innumerable small units that made use of the military equipment uneconomic. A crestfallen field force therefore withdrew from the combat area after about a month.” In other words, the emus emerged victorious in what’s now known as the Great Emu War. The birds were simply too much trouble to get rid of, and though they suffered heavy casualties, they still thrive Down Under.

One ancient wonder only stood for about 55 years.

  • Colossus of Rhodes statue
Colossus of Rhodes statue
ClassicStock/ Alamy Stock Photo
Author Bennett Kleinman
November 21, 2023

Love it?

Of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, the Colossus of Rhodes stood for the shortest period of time — roughly 55 years. Sources vary as to the exact number, but what’s certain is that the statue existed for a mere blip in the annals of history. (By comparison, the Great Pyramid of Giza has stood for more than 4,500 years.) The Colossus’ creation dates back to the siege of the Greek island of Rhodes in 305 BCE, when the Macedonian ruler Demetrius I led an ultimately futile attempt to capture the city and harbor. As his army abandoned its efforts the following year, they left behind their supplies and equipment, which the city later sold off for profit. With this unexpected windfall, Rhodian officials commissioned a celebratory statue of the Greek sun god Helios, the patron god of Rhodes. 

Greek sculptor Chares of Lindos was tasked with building the colossal 108-foot-tall statue; he began around 292 BCE, and the work lasted for 12 years. Though the sculpture’s exact location is unknown, it’s believed to have stood on the harbor’s eastern side, and was likely made of iron and stone coated with bronze. The Colossus stood triumphantly for five decades, but it fell around 226 BCE when an earthquake struck the region and toppled the great wonder. Its remnants were scattered around until 654 CE, when invading Arabian forces gathered and sold what remained of the statue. There was so much debris that it’s said to have taken more than 900 camel loads to transport.