Fun Names

While watching an old movie the other night, I was amused by the exchange between a child and an adult. The adult asked why the child’s goldfish was named Harold. The child responded that she had named it after the angel Harold. “Harold?” “Yes”, the child explained: “Hark, the Harold angel sings.”

I remembered a scene from The Glass Menagerie, where the young ingenue tells the ardent swain that she has plurosis. He mishears and thinks she said blue roses. Befuddlement ensued. 

I suppose we all have misheard or completely misunderstood names. I remember a new student appearing before the class with a name that was so unusual, I couldn’t tell where the first name ended and the surname began. The teacher introduced Filuminaminghini. Later, I learned the first name was Filumina, the surname Minighini. Even then, I couldn’t imagine her mother yelling that name out in the play ground. “Fi-Lu-Mina !!”

After school I spent a year traipsing around Europe with various friends, who came and went like an accordion, depending on their time and finances. 

I was never more interested in, or amused by, the names of the ubiquitous British pubs. During our pub crawling expeditions, I would enter a pub and ask the keep or another pub denizen about the origin of the name of the pub. Inevitably, I would be told that the pub had been in existence for many hundreds of years, since the time of (fill in name of king or queen). The history was well known to the locals so only a traveler would need ask. This brought about an opportunity for the locals to present themselves as learned. At one pub the apparently local learned gentleman (I knew he was learned because he wore the universal tweed jacket with the leather elbow patches and smoked a pipe; this was the late 60’s) sidled up to me and explained that, originally, public house names reflected the history of the country or the area in which they were sited. The price of a Guinness would bring further enlightenment.

He then went on to explain that names from the past tended to be patriotic or royal starting with The Crown. Of course this was representative of the King or Queen (who had spent one night in the now enshrined bedroom upstairs: "Queen Victoria slept here"). The Red Lion name became popular when James I ordered red lions to be displayed outside all public places. He wanted all Englishmen to be reminded that their king was Scottish (where he was known as King James VI). The Royal Oak name only became popular after Charles II escaped during the English Civil War by hiding behind an oak tree (the “merry monarch” was a bit of a wimp if you ask me). And The Swan, which symbolizes harmony, was frequently used in various coats of arms. All swans are owned by the Queen and protected by law; harming one would not provide a harmonious outcome. We continued on in our pub forays listening to variations of the same theme. Eventually, I lost track of the number of pubs with the same omnipresent names.

Then, of course, there were names that defied logic and undoubtedly fell from their original intended course: the Pig & Whistle, the Goat & Tricycle, the Three Legged Mare or (my favorite) the Cat & Custard Pot. Alas, when I asked about the origin of those names, I was given the fisheye. Apparently a rose by any other name, etc. But really, how does one keep a straight face when entering the Poopsie Nancies. 

Amusement Parks or the CNE

 The CNE, the Canadian National Exhibition, always began during the third week of August and ended on Labor Day in September. 

When we were little and summer was drawing to a close, with the dreaded school looming on the horizon, our last greatly anticipated escapade before the rigors and formality of school life began was the CNE. It was our parents’ last “or else” ultimatum card to ensure good behavior. We had saved our pennies all summer long for this great occasion that, of course, would be all the talk when we returned to school and we too had to have our corresponding stories to classmates’ tales of bravado and ingenuity. 

I remember the huge separate covered tents that held various country and industrial exhibitions and contests from cattle weight to flower and vegetable competitions to pies and preserves. Shamefully, at the time we had no interest in any of that stuff. We were city kids. We headed straight for the amusement section of the exhibition. There were throwing contests: rings on bottles, balloons on walls, metal animals that rang when hit. There were different fun houses that we could walk through; scare ourselves in the haunted houses or watch ourselves change shape in the hall of mirrors. There was a huge carousel that spewed out the same world renowned organ tune. The enormous ferris wheel and the massive white wooden roller coaster were sights to behold; equally terrifying and thrilling. There were barkers who enticed us to “step right up” into the separate small tents that held The Tattooed Man, the Fattest Lady, the Bearded Lady, the Snake Man, the Fire Eating Man. (Best guess: those tents are gone today). We listened, all the while bobbing up and down in order to sneak a peek at what was inside, then giggled and ran.

And all the while the smell of sugar coated fried batter and colored cotton candy wafted through the air everywhere we went. While enjoying all this illicit food we were entertained by the sight of the Blue Angels flying above us. We stopped and stared up to the sky as far back as our heads would allow and watched, mouths agape, as the Blue Angels spectacularly twirled and strung their colored smoke tails across the skies. It was heaven to imagine even riding inside an ordinary airplane, but the Blue Angels were beyond the limits of our imagination. 

As teenagers, we finally wandered through the various large tents, pretending sophisticated disdain, but secretly admiring the country accomplishments: the largest home grown melons, the carved butter statues, the hand stitched quilts, the weaving and spinning wheel demonstrations. We watched goat and swine competitions. And while it was all very interesting, at the end of the day we had no desire to participate in sheep shearing. We waited in line to taste a piece of prize blue ribbon home made fruit pie or a preserve. While we ate hot dogs, apple fritters and the very messy but still beloved colored cotton candy, we found our way back to the rides; oh, the rides that were so scary when we were younger were now exciting and waiting for us: the bumper cars, the scrambler, the tilt-a-wheel; all guaranteed, with their height and speed, to allow us to toss our cookies after the ride ended. It was never-ending, unmitigated and joyous fun. The only downside was knowing that school was just a few days away.

As an aside: the CNE began as the Industrial Fair in 1846, moving around geographically among local towns until it landed permanently in Toronto on 50 acres around the lakeshore. In 1912, the Toronto Industrial Exhibition changed its name to the Canadian National Exhibition to better reflect the scope and reach of the fair. It was there at the CNE that patrons were introduced to electric railway transportation in 1883, to Edison's phonograph in 1888, to the telephone in 1890, to radio in 1922, to television in 1939 and to plastics and synthetics in the 1940s. It was not until 1968 that it was opened on Sundays. Today it covers 196 acres with over 8,000 exhibits.