We all love where we grew up. We fondly remember skipping in the warm rain that sprinkled down across the ever-green hills rolling into the horizon. Everyone was nice. The schools were good. Crime was always far enough away to ignore.
When people ask where we're from, we smile, stand erect and proudly announce our birth city and state. The response we get may be wide-eyed awe and wonder...or a blank stare. Being from Barron, a town of 3,000 nestled in the forests, rivers and dairy farms of northern Wisconsin...I generally got the blank stare.
But oh the joy and exhilaration when someone had been to Barron to visit family, maybe passed through on the way to their cabin, only seen the name on a road sign, or even simply been frightened by twisted tales of Barron heard while visiting their aged Alzheimer's-stricken Scandanavian grandmother in the nursing home. It doesn't matter how- if someone has heard of Barron, it is an immediate plus in my book.
England has the distinction of having lots of old villages. Really old. People who named these towns haphazardly combined Viking and Saxon words, French and Anglo words, or sometimes all four languages. The result is an abundance of funny, charming, or quaint sounding villages.
Think Stratford-upon-Avon, Yarmouth, Pocklington, Whitby, Folkestone or Biggleswade.
Two weeks ago, while winding though the hills of Northamptonshire, we happened across a village whose name likely is a result of the temperment of residents it has produced over the centuries. We snapped a photo of the city sign for all to enjoy.
I think we all know someone who hails from this village.
Stand proud and tall, O ye residents of...
www.nytimes.com/2009/01/23/world/europe/23crapstone.html
When people ask where we're from, we smile, stand erect and proudly announce our birth city and state. The response we get may be wide-eyed awe and wonder...or a blank stare. Being from Barron, a town of 3,000 nestled in the forests, rivers and dairy farms of northern Wisconsin...I generally got the blank stare.
But oh the joy and exhilaration when someone had been to Barron to visit family, maybe passed through on the way to their cabin, only seen the name on a road sign, or even simply been frightened by twisted tales of Barron heard while visiting their aged Alzheimer's-stricken Scandanavian grandmother in the nursing home. It doesn't matter how- if someone has heard of Barron, it is an immediate plus in my book.
England has the distinction of having lots of old villages. Really old. People who named these towns haphazardly combined Viking and Saxon words, French and Anglo words, or sometimes all four languages. The result is an abundance of funny, charming, or quaint sounding villages.
Think Stratford-upon-Avon, Yarmouth, Pocklington, Whitby, Folkestone or Biggleswade.
Two weeks ago, while winding though the hills of Northamptonshire, we happened across a village whose name likely is a result of the temperment of residents it has produced over the centuries. We snapped a photo of the city sign for all to enjoy.
I think we all know someone who hails from this village.
Stand proud and tall, O ye residents of...
Click here for an article on some other interesting street and city names in the UK.
www.nytimes.com/2009/01/23/world/europe/23crapstone.html
Haha! Beautifully written!
ReplyDeleteOh, there are a couple of people that would say that is where I grew up............that is hilarious though. You need to write, you have a gift.
ReplyDeleteHow poetic.
ReplyDeletehey, I met someone from that village just last week!
ReplyDelete