March 2026
3.14
03/14/26 Filed in: Moments
I have a question that I must put in the argot of a generation younger than my own: When did π Day become a thing?
I am getting mail wishing me a happy Pi Day. My daily puzzles are tormenting me with π-themes clues—and there are only so many π / pie puns I can stand, if I am not making them myself.
I had no objection to becoming more acquainted with π as I studied Biblical Greek. I accepted it as a standard part of the general program of the torment when I took high school trigonometry. And I fully intend to call it to my aid should I ever find myself desperate to find the area of a circle, though at this moment I do not anticipate pricing wall-to-wall carpet for either a silo or an igloo. But I question the idea that π, alone among Greek letters and irrational numbers, merits a day of its own each year.
It is consoling that I need not face similar mathematical jollification in June. Needy Pi, beginning with “3.14,” writes itself into your datebook. (I’m almost surprised that the irrational thing hasn’t registered for gifts at Williams Sonoma: there are endless pie-themed gift options.) But Avogadro’s number is a modest constant. Beginning with “6.0,” it says, “You might think of me in June, but don’t waste a whole day on it.” I must say, I am grateful. Just imagining the crosswords filling with moles and puns joining their atomic and mammalian varieties makes me want to binge-eat a whole π.
I am getting mail wishing me a happy Pi Day. My daily puzzles are tormenting me with π-themes clues—and there are only so many π / pie puns I can stand, if I am not making them myself.
I had no objection to becoming more acquainted with π as I studied Biblical Greek. I accepted it as a standard part of the general program of the torment when I took high school trigonometry. And I fully intend to call it to my aid should I ever find myself desperate to find the area of a circle, though at this moment I do not anticipate pricing wall-to-wall carpet for either a silo or an igloo. But I question the idea that π, alone among Greek letters and irrational numbers, merits a day of its own each year.
It is consoling that I need not face similar mathematical jollification in June. Needy Pi, beginning with “3.14,” writes itself into your datebook. (I’m almost surprised that the irrational thing hasn’t registered for gifts at Williams Sonoma: there are endless pie-themed gift options.) But Avogadro’s number is a modest constant. Beginning with “6.0,” it says, “You might think of me in June, but don’t waste a whole day on it.” I must say, I am grateful. Just imagining the crosswords filling with moles and puns joining their atomic and mammalian varieties makes me want to binge-eat a whole π.