Odds and ends

As we all know, meanings of words often change over time. Originally, Hamburger meant a resident of Hamburg, Germany, and Frankfurter meant a resident of Frankfurt, Germany. They were not foods you like to eat at a backyard cookout. Also, it hasn't been all that long ago that 'gay' meant happy.

And it isn't just time that brings change. So does distance. A boot and a bonnet in the UK are known as a trunk and a hood in the US, a biscuit is called a cookie, and a napkin is called a diaper. If Graham Edwards is to be believed (and there's no reason why he shouldn't be), the word 'lavaliere' is unknown to people in Scotland.

Read the following poem:

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace.
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living.
And the child born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, good and gay.

I'm pretty certain that the writer of that poem was not suggesting that children born on the Sabbath day are members of the LGBTQIA+ community.

All that aside, the big news of the week in these parts is that our first great-grandchild has been welcomed into the world. Mother and baby are doing well. The baby, a healthy boy weighing six pounds, seven ounces, and sporting a headful of dark brown hair, has been named Banks. His great-grandpa, an old-fashioned sort of guy, would not be surprised if the next child born in that family is named Grocery Stores.

I'm kidding.

But you can't deny that just as times change and meanings of words change, even so do names that are popular for giving to new members of the human race change also. Heraclitus, a Greek philosopher who lived around 500 BC, said that the only permanent thing is change. He had a point.

As much as the name Banks surprised me, I am grateful that our new descendant was not named Mephibosheth or Tiglath-pileser.

She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother

I hate earworms with a vengeance, with every fiber of my being. I cannot overstate this. A fragment of a tune or a lyric gets stuck in one's my brain and plays itself over and over and over again, driving one me to distraction.

It happened again recently, starting up without warning in the middle of the night. All I could think of for several hours was "Can she bake a cherry pie, Billy Boy, Billy Boy? Can she bake a cherry pie, charming Billy?" It went away eventually, but not until the middle of the next afternoon.

In other news, I continue to enjoy watching Jeopardy! but am making a concerted effort not to burden you with it. You can rest assured, however, that I remain at my post, yelling at my television set five evenings a week, important things like "What is a highboy?", "Who are C.S. Lewis and J.R.R.Tolkien?", "What is a hatrack?", and "What is the Rhine?" while the real contestants stand mute.

Today, le quatorze juillet, is the 234th anniversary of the storming of the Bastille on July 14, 1789, a major event in the French Revolution. I wonder if Marie Antoinette could bake a cherry pie.

Words I haven’t heard in years and other items of interest

In 1952 two men named Johnny Standley and Art Thorson produced a 45rpm comedy recording called "It's In The Book". It featured a sermon-style presentation of "Little Bo-Peep" on Side A and a song entitled "Grandma's Lye Soap" on Side B. Here's the song:

1. You remember Grandma's lye soap
Good for everything in the home
And the secret was in the scrubbing
It wouldn't suds and couldn't foam.

Refrain:
So sing right out for Gramdma's Lye Soap
Good for everything, everything in the place
The pots and kettles, the dirty dishes
And for the hands and for the face.

2. Little Herman and brother Thurman
Had an aversion to washing their ears
Grandma scrubbed them with the lye soap
And they haven't heard a word in years. (Refrain)

3. Mrs. O'Malley out in the valley
Suffered from ulcers, I understand
She swallowed a cake of Grandma's lye soap
Has the cleanest ulcers in the land. (Refrain)

The last part of the second verse popped into my head today and I suddenly thought of quite a few words I haven't heard in years:

lavaliere
antimacassar
humidor
gramophone
impetigo
mercurochrome
merthiolate
culottes
campho-phenique
ipana
brylcreem
toadstool
Gentian violet
dirigible
ecru
snood
heliotrope
taffeta
organza
Saint Vitus' dance
faille
cotillion
dirndl
mustard plaster

What are some words you haven't heard in years?

You probably know that the months of July and August were named in honor of Julius Caesar and Augustus Caesar, but did you know that although Julius Carsar said "Veni, Vidi, Vici" (I came, I saw, I conquered), Mrs. Julius Caesar said "Veni, Vidi, VISA" (I came, I saw, I did a little shopping).

In other news, this past Tuesday was the Fourth of July here in the United States. Actually, this past Tuesday was the Fourth of July all over the world but it has special significance in the United States where it is celebrated as our day of independence from Great Britain in the days of the late Queen Elizabeth II's great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, George III, some 247 years ago on July 4, 1776. Thus it is, friends, that in just three short years my country will be observing its SEMI-QUINCENTENNIAL (a big word that may or may not catch on).

My personal observance this year included eating a hot dog, not attending a parade, and yelling "Who is Absalom?, "Who is John Singer Sargent?", and "What are the Brandenburg Concertos?" at the television set during periods of complete silence from the contestants on Jeopardy!, and I do not take those freedoms lightly.

I want to end this post by sharing with my vast reading audience (I'm joking, unfortunately) possibly the best four-line poem I have ever read. Called "The Middle", it was written by Ogden Nash, an American who is best known for lighthearted, humorous stuff. "The Middle" is neither lighthearted nor humorous, but strikes a chord deep within us:

When I remember bygone days
I think how evening follows morn;
So many I loved were not yet dead,
So many I love were not yet born.

Our lives are short in the overall scheme of things. Cherish your life and the lives of those you love and have loved, the human beings who preceded you, who are with you now, and who will look back on you as one who preceded them. Like it or not, we are all connected to others.