If you have something in the middle of a whole lot of nothing, what have you got?

I want to talk today about French Polynesia.

It has a flag* and everything:

...and according to wikipedia, some important atolls, islands, and island groups in French Polynesia are Ahē, Bora Bora, Hiva ’Oa, Huahine, Mai’ao, Maupiti, Meheti’a, Mo’orea, Nuku Hiva, Raiatea, Taha’a, Tahiti, Tetiaroa, Tupua’i, and Tūpai.

I kid you not.

Island paradises all, probably.

The capital of French Polynesia is Papeetē on the island of Tahiti, but the largest city, according to wikipedia, is Fa’a’a....

Say what?

Really?

Fa’a’a?

Then why have I, the legendary rhymeswithplague, never heard of it?

Chalk it up to a faulty education, I suppose.

Clicking on Fa’a’a in that wikipedia article took me to another article entitled Faaa.

Faaa, without the accompanying apostrophes.

The mind, it reels.

And asks continually, why? Why? WHY?

But no explanation is ever forthcoming.

I am interested in history and exploration, and the following paragraph was my favorite part of the article:

“European communication began in 1521 when the Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan, sailing in the service of the Spanish Crown, sighted Puka-Puka in the Tuāmotu-Gambier Archipelago. Dutchman Jakob Roggeveen came across Bora Bora in the Society Islands in 1722, and the British explorer Samuel Wallis visited Tahiti in 1767. The French explorer Louis Antoine de Bougainville visited Tahiti in 1768, while the British explorer James Cook visited in 1769. In 1772 The Spanish Viceroy of Peru Don Manuel de Amat ordered a number of expeditions to Tahiti under the command of Domingo de Bonechea who was the first European to explore all of the main islands beyond Tahiti. A short-lived Spanish settlement was created in 1774. Some maps still bear the name Isla de Amat for Tahiti, which was named after Viceroy Amat in the 18th century. Christian missions began with Spanish priests who stayed in Tahiti for a year. Protestants from the London Missionary Society settled permanently in Polynesia in 1797.”

Unless it was this photograph of the building that houses the seat of government, the Assemblée de la Polynésie française or, as the islanders call it, Te âpoora’a rahi o te fenua Māòhi:

(2007 image by veromortillet used in accordance with GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2)

Hey, except for the sign out front it could be an A-frame in Sevierville, Tennessee:

(2007 image by Brian Stansberry used in accordance with GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2)

But it isn’t.

No, French Polynesia boasts scenes like this:

(2007 image by PHG under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2)







...and this:

(2006 photo by Scott Williams used under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2)

...and this:

(2005 image used under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2)

They sure beat mowing the lawn on a hot afternoon.

Ah, French Polynesia, the land of James Michener’s Tales of the South Pacific; the land (though not exactly) of French planter Emile De Becque (as portrayed by Ezio Pinza) singing “Some Enchanted Evening” to U.S. Navy Nurse Ensign Nellie Forbush (as portrayed by Mary Martin) ; the place called home by the likes of painter Paul Gauguin, Tarita Teriipia (third wife of actor Marlon Brando), Cheyenne Brando (daughter of Marlon and Tarita), Tuki Brando (Cheyenne’s son, a model who is “currently the face of Versace menswear” according to wikipedia), and writer Robert Louis Stevenson.

But perhaps you are a winter person, a lover of ice and snow, bobsledding, skiing, one-horse open sleighs. For you we will now all link arms and join in a round of a grand old wintertime song:

Deck the halls with boughs of holly,
Fa’a’a Fa’a’a Fa’a’a!
'Tis the season to be jolly,
Fa’a’a Fa’a’a Fa’a’a!

So, I ask again: If you have something in the middle of a whole lot of nothing, what have you got?

Possible answers:

A. French Polynesia
B. Another fascinating post from rhymeswithplague.

The correct answer is B.

*This post was inspired yesterday afternoon when I found the flag of French Polynesia in that little Feedjit Live Traffic Feed thingy over in the sidebar after someone from Mahina (the third largest city in French Polynesia after -- class? -- Fa’a’a and Papeetē) visited my blog. That flag became the 163rd flag in my little collection of flags of the nations of the world that have visited my blog.

And the winner of the Mystery Couple puzzler is...

Yesterday I posted this photo:



...and asked you two questions:

Who are they? And why did I put them on my blog?

We had hundreds dozens several four entrants.

And the winner (cue trumpet fanfare) is:

Not Mary Z who said, “Vernon and Irene Castle? Arthur Murray and wife?” because even though one of her two guesses is correct she didn’t address the “Why?” part of my puzzler. I did inform Mary Z. that Arthur Murray’s wife’s name was Katherine.

Not Hilltophomesteader who said, “Ah, you and Mrs. RWP look so utterly charming, gliding and swaying together as cheek to cheek you dance to the music in your hearts on your recent anniversary. My but you make a lovely couple! No wonder you’ve been married all these years - cemented together by such a great love....(You said ‘the best answer’...not necessarily the ‘correct’ answer, yes?)” because even though she obviously knows how to butter up a judge she didn’t really address the “Who?” part of my puzzler. Hilltop was definitely a contender, though, unlike this person.

Not Shooting Parrots who said, “The chap looks like David Niven, but Tin Eye tells me it is indeed Vernon and Irene Castle.” not only because he didn’t address the “Why?” part of my puzzler but also because he used Tin Eye when the rules clearly stated “No fair cheating by using the intricacies of modern technology to find out. Either you know the answer or you don’t.” Shame on you, Shooting Parrots.

Not Yorkshire Pudding, film pioneer, who said, “I know virtually nothing about dancing but I would say that that is a picture of Vernon and Irene Castle. My suggestion as to why they are in your blog is because you and your lady Ellie have decided to change your names to Vernon and Irene. Vernon Brague has a sophisticated ring to it - unlike the common sound of ‘Bob’ Brague. Janitor? Trucker? Once renamed you will waltz through the streets of Canton like Ginger and Fred (another unsophisticated name).” which, though it is rather the opposite of buttering up the judge, was the only one of the four entries that really addressed both parts of my puzzler. I replied to Pudding thusly: “Vernon and Irene Brague doesn’t carry near the sophistication of, say, Nigel and Penelope Brague or even Clive and Pamela Brague. But as one should be grateful for what one has been given, we have no plans to change our names.”

But as we must have a winner, a winner we shall have.

The winner, the only entrant who answered both parts of my puzzler, is none other than Lord Yorkshire Pudding of Pudding Towers, Sheffield, Yorkshire, England. He was wrong, however, as to the reason I posted the photo of Vernon and Irene Castle.

Receiving honorable/honourable mention and the Creative Writing bouquet of virtual daisies is the one and only Ms. Hilltophomesteader of Somewhere In The Western Portion Of The State Of Washington, Sixty Miles From The Coast.

The other entrants are urged to continue honing their problem-solving skills and to continue entering future contests, reading the rules very carefully. If at first one doesn’t succeed, one should try, try again.

You may remember that the prize was a year’s supply free.

Of what?

Why, happy thoughts, of course.

I have changed my mind -- I hereby declare everyone officially a winner, and here are five happy thoughts from a blogger named Gary to start you off. I’m afraid you’ll have to find the rest yourself. I lied.

I thought the second half of my puzzler -- why did I put a photograph of Vernon and Irene Castle on my blog? -- would have been obvious to regular readers of this blog who ought to know by now are constantly amazed at apparently have no clue about how my mind works.

It seemed the only logical thing to do -- it followed as the night the day -- after I showed you my poem, “The Rather Odd Story Of Iris McGee” which begins:

In a house at the edge of a deep, dark wood,
Near the place where Irene’s castle once stood,...

Well, it seemed obvious to me.

Most of all, I remember Mama...

On April 10, 1910 -- one hundred and one years ago yesterday -- my mother was born in the borough of Jenkintown in Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, a suburb of Philadelphia. Thirty-one years after that, she gave birth to me, and sixteen years after that, on October 4, 1957, she died.

One of the things our family did every week from 1949 until 1957 was gather around our little Philco television set (12-inch screen, three channels, black-and-white pictures only) on Friday nights and watch a program called Mama. Please do not confuse it with Mama’s Family starring Vicki Lawrence, which didn’t come along until decades later. (It would be difficult to confuse the two programs; they could not have been more different.)

Mama starred actress Peggy Wood, who probably is remembered chiefly nowadays for her role as the Mother Abbess who sang “Climb Every Mountain” in the 1965 film The Sound of Music. The television program Mama was based on a 1944 play by John Van Druten called I Remember Mama that ran for 713 performances in New York and included Marlon Brando in a supporting role in his Broadway debut. The play, which was made into a 1948 film starring Irene Dunne and a very young Barbara Bel Geddes, had been based on a book called Mama’s Bank Account by Kathryn Forbes.

This particular Mama’s family lived in a Norwegian-immigrant community in San Francisco around 1910. There was “little sister Dagmar” and “big brother Nels” (played by the then very young Dick Van Patten who later played the father in the TV series Eight Is Enough) and, of course, “Papa” (played by Judson Laird). But most of all, most of all when Kathryn (the narrator) would think back to those days so long ago, most of all, she remembered Mama.

Mama was one of my mother’s favorite television programs, and it became one of mine. Television was different in those days before Dancing With The Stars and American Idol and Desperate Housewives and Celebrity Apprentice, not to mention all the stuff available on cable and satellite. Mama seems quaint today, almost like local community theater, and nothing at all like what today’s audiences crave. In spite of the many inventions and improvements and medical advances that have taken place, I think that our society as a whole and the individual family in particular are not better off as a result of the changes in what passes for entertainment.

In 1957 the days were simpler, quieter. Mama didn’t have a laugh track or a studio audience or even very many commercials. In fact, in the entire half-hour programs there were only two commercials, one at the beginning and one at the end. The days depicted, those even-earlier days of 1910, were quieter still, simpler still. And they were something else, too. They were sweeter.

Below is an early episode of Mama from 1950. Although the children are all quite Americanized, the adults speak with Norwegian accents (“Make yourself at home, Yenny; I’ll be with you in a yiffy”). No one was more surprised than I to hear Peggy Wood speak without that accent in The Sound Of Music. It ranks right up there with my surprise at discovering that Jean Stapleton’s natural voice is a whole octave lower than the voice she used in her role as Edith Bunker on All in the Family.

I realize that there is no fool like an old fool, but cut me a little slack during my mother's birthday week and let us all now hearken back to the days of 1910 as seen through the eyes of 1950. Let us all say a prayer for what has happened to our society.

And even if she is nothing at all like your own mother or mine (although I’ll bet she may resemble her more than you suspect), let us all remember Mama (28:55).