What's in a Name, and Syd (and/or Christine)

Thinking about the many  nicknames bestowed upon me (Bubby, Bub, Martha, Diva, Scoots, Scooter, FNP, and others that can't be mentioned in front of small children), I marvel at the creative nature of most of my friends and family. We've enjoyed jousting with movie lines (which will undoubtedly be a future post soon) and jostled for communication positions with accents and dialects (most of the time taking on the persona of a character from pop culture). But the nicknames we give to each other have stood the test of time, and stuck like glue. Or like floating pieces of sticky notes drifting aimlessly through the cosmos of years until it lands squarely on your forehead, like Lane (played by John Cusack) in the classic cult movie Better Off Dead. We look at the sticky note, queerly, not sure it is real, take it off our head to examine it thoroughly; it's heft, it's color, and how the writing curves and dances, or it might be  jagged or angular. We smile, ever so slightly, upon reading our nickname on the sticky note.  We start to like it. For the name is ours, and it's unique, and in some way, it represents us.

But what is in a name? What power does it hold? Or does it? William Shakespeare posed the question, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."  In other words, a rose is a rose is a rose. By naming it we gave a flower meaning, life, a voice to speak with by its aromatic fragrance. You can't really talk (or smell) around that!

I don't know what Billy Shakes meant that when he wrote the above (as I wasn't there or in his head) but I like to think his simple words are echoed in what Katherine Paterson wrote, "A name we give something shapes our attitude to it."  Does it? Would Batman or Spiderman provide the same rush of adrenaline that fear-filled villains experience who dare to cross their paths,  if they were called Blind Survivor Animal Man or Long Legged Crawling Thing Boy? For that matter, would the simple words of Spider or Snake generate anxiety and thoughts of dread in the hearts of many if they were named Floppy and Squiggly? We can't answer these questions because we've always known these animals by their "given" names. But who gave them their names? Why did they choose those sounds in the specific morphological order that they did?

"Food for thought. Chow down." (quote from Chris Stevens, AKA Chris in the morning, played by John Corbett in the cult TV show Northern Exposure from the early 90s. Northern Exposure was affectionally called  NX by my cousins and the late great Bob! Cheers Bob)

I grew up naming my cars (all twelve). To go through all of the cars with their accompanying names would be a trial on  my memory, to say the least. However,  some of my favorites were Waldo Pepper, Elly, Josie, Chris, and Sydney. This behavior  to christen vehicles was inspired by watching the movie "Christine" (book by Stephen King) starring a gorgeous long finned 1958 Plymouth Fury that was alive, and evil, terrorizing a small town. To be completely truthful, I named the first car I bought "Chris" in honor of the great movie/book. The name gave the car personality, a heart, and feelings. It bonded me to the vehicle so it would hopefully protect me. Not unlike Christine...

Chris (Back), Me  (center), Syd (Front)

Story Time (Syd): Her curves caught my eye as soon as my peripheral vision was jolted left. She was sleek, not loud and obnoxious like the others. But, just because she wasn't loud didn't mean she wouldn't demand her presence to be known. That she did naturally. 

I spun my blue Mustang coupe (Chris) around on the four lane  highway in Scotia, NY (where I grew up and will always call home) and circled back around to steal another look. A extend, and to be truthful, craving stare. Her beauty and damn near perfection was already invading my heart.  I'd never seen anything like her before, and lord knew I wouldn't again. 

She had a half black vinyl top  and was candy-apple red from her large molded hood to her cute little boot (I grew up calling this part of a car a "trunk", but I have friends in Canada who use this term and I love it!). I walked up next to her, my eyes gleaming, glued to her side panel that pressed in like the classic Ford Mustangs of the sixties (a  style brought back in the 90s after a long hiatus, thank God!). I opened the long door, and because she was so low to the ground, I fell in, landing on the soft welcoming seat. Her tan interior caught my fall; protecting me already. It was definitely love at first sight... and I felt it through my entire adolescent body.  

Without a second thought, I talked to my parents, they cosigned a loan for $2500 and I bought Sydney (known as Syd with friends and family). Syd was a 1977 Mustang Ghia. We met when I was 17 and she very well might have been my first love. But love is a strange thing, when you are a teenager. It can blind you to so many things...Again, as I write this I think more about the book/movie Christine...strange...

Thanks all! With compassion and kindness (C&K)
BD Scott