The Other Name

Lefty Frizzell (Wikipedia photo)

My name is Tony! It always has been.  I get tired of people asking me, "Isn't it Anthony?" I can, in retrospect, understand their asking when I was a child. But this has been going on for more than 60 years! My name is not Anthony. This declaration leads me to think about nicknames. That name we give someone other than their given name. I know Tony can be a nickname. As can Joe, Tom, Jack, Harry, Pat and others derived from the given name. The names Joseph, Thomas, John, Henry and Patrick lend themselves handily to nicknames. Does anyone know how this started?  I don't quite understand it.  If a boy is going to be called "Jim" why not name him "Jim" instead of James? Probably if he was named "Jim" he would have to go go through life being asked "Is it really James?" This would even work in New Jersey and Chicago where they tend to prefer one syllable names.

What about those other nicknames that are based on physical characteristics. Slim, Fats, Chubby, Shorty, Red, Lefty or Rabbit. Everyone remembers Slim Pickens, Fats Domino, Red Buttons, Lefty Frizzell and Chubby Checker.  I've known fellows whose nicknames were  Shorty and Rabbit. Shorty was height challenged while Rabbit was very fast afoot. I've also known Four-eyes, Snake and Turtle. Turtle earned his nickname because he wasn't very fast.I 'm not real sure about Snake.

Perhaps the military does the best job of reducing sir names to nicknames. Robinson becomes Robbie, McKenzie becomes Mack, Smith becomes Smitty and Kolinsky becomes Skee.  The military also gives nicknames according to occupation.  For example a Gunners Mate is known as "Gunny" and a Hospital Corpsman is known as "Bones". The Commissaryman becomes Cookie and the Electricians Mate becomes Sparky. I was a "Twiget" or "Pin-jockey", and Electronics Technician.

The field of sports have given us scores of nicknames. Dale "The Intimidator" Earnhardt, "Mean" Joe Green, "Refrigerator" Perry, "Catfish" Hunter, "Shoeless" Joe Jackson and Billy "White Shoes" Johnson.

"Shoeless" Joe Jackson (Wikipedia photo)

Some of these are quite easy to understand.  Earnhardt was simply intimidating on the racetrack. was a fast race car driver. "Mean" Joe was exactly that on the football field but much nicer in Coca-Cola commercials. (see below) "The Frig" was simply a big Bear on Chicago's football team. Of course the white shoes of Johnson were obvious and Jackson wore no shoes.  But I never did figure out the "Catfish" moniker.

Another interesting thing about nicknames is in every instance, except those derived from given names, are gender specific. How many girls or women have nicknames? I can't think of any. Why is that? I can't imagine a woman referred to as "Chubby" or "Slim"?  But then there was Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan.  But that was in the movies.

Did the Native Americans have nicknames?  What would have been the nickname of Red Cloud?  maybe simply "Red"? What about Cochise? "Coch?"  Actually, most of my research shows that most nicknames are products of Western Civilization. I'm not sure where the Native Americans fit in the East-West classification.

I believe this nickname phenomena is probably a cultural thing.  Maybe Anglo-Saxon.  But then  I'm not certain because "flaco" means "skinny" in Spanish and there's the great squeezebox player named Flaco Jimenez.   And he's not fat. And not of Anglo-Saxon ancestry.

I do know that my name is Tony and not Anthony!

The Center of the World

In our travels we have visited churches, mosques, temples, cathedrals and basilicas seemingly ad infinitum. They are always at the top of places of interest in various locales. Though many are opulent and some simplistic none quite compare to Saint Peter's Basilica of the Vatican City in Rome. We were there on a Sunday in October. There were also thousands of other tourists there as well. On this occasion we decided to take a guided tour which was unusual for us.  Our tour guide was a cute young Italian whose name was Gabriella.   She spoke very good english but used the term "ladies and gentlemen" so frequently it became annoying.

Taking a tour turned out to be a good decision. Without a guide we would have been lost in the crowds. Elbow to elbow we were. They issued us these small radio receivers with earbuds. We could hear Gabriella but  we could not respond. There was a large group of us tourists and we were divided among the tour guides.  We had signed up for a specific time also.  At the appointed time we were led by our guide across the street from Italy into the sovereign nation of the Vatican City of which the Pope is the absolute monarch. The 110 acres with 840 inhabitants is the smallest country in the world by area and population. Although actually formed in 1377, it became an official sovereign state in 1929.  It's major source of income is tourism and 1.1 billion Catholics worldwide. The walled city is quite interesting from an architectural standpoint and houses art treasures galore. And we were going elbow our way through the crowds led by a diminutive Italian.

Our first stop was a large room in which there was a three-dimension model of the city. The scale was probably a fraction of an inch per foot. Our tour guide pointed out our route on the model. Soon we entered the Vatican art galleries. It was like one lengthy ornately decorated tunnel. The vaulted ceiling seemed to have gold dripping from it. The walls are covered with paintings and sculptures. These are the longest art galleries in the world. As I looked at the great wealth I couldn't help but speculate on how many of the poor and sick could have been helped by such treasure. Millions, perhaps. We continued to the attraction which we had longed to see, the Sistine Chapel. Our tour guide was not allowed to lead us through the chapel and would meet us on our exit. Although the major art work was done by the sculptor Michelangelo many other painters are represented as well. According to our tour guide many of the poses of the figures in Michelangelo's work can be seen in his sculptures of figures.  I thought it interesting that characters from Greek and Roman mythology are also included. The artist also continued the practice of painting the faces of his enemies on the villains in the paintings. Actually they were frescoes, paintings created by the addition of pigment to wet plaster. It is an incredible work of art. The area was crowded with noisy tourists. The security personnel constantly requested silence in authoritative tones. But people talked. Photographs were strictly forbidden but electronic flashes lit up the dim interior. And teenagers do what comes natural when hormones go awry. I looked at those who offer no sense of reverence in a place of worship with disgust. I am respectful of their mosques and temples.  Why should they not respect my churches? By the way, there are two exits from the Sistine Chapel.  Don't take the one on the left. It does not lead directly to Saint Peter's Basilica. After a bit of discovery by wandering around we rejoined the tour group much to the delight of Gabriella.

I suppose Saint Peter's could be considered the church of churches. The apostle Peter was told by Jesus that his church would be built upon him. The bones of Peter are buried beneath the church. Are they the bones of the first century Christian? Archaeologists say that the bones are from the first century. The basilica is an incredible structure. The building is measured in acres not square feet. I think it's the only five acre church I've ever been in. The opulence is overwhelming.  The inlaid marble floor seems very smoothe. Normally, you can detect an unevenness where the stone  has worn down.  Since different colors of marble wear at different rates and normal wear introduces unevenness.

The shear size is over delusional. The center altar seems to be tall until you see a person nest to and you realise that it is four stories high!  There are many tombs and many more in the crypt underneath. Michelangelo's most famous Pieta is in one of the chapels behind bullet-proof glass. It seems it was once attacked by vandals. We ventured outside through the huge forty foot doors into Saint Peter's Square where the Pope normally holds his audience.

It was starting to rain.  A slow drizzle.  As we entered Italy we decided to duck under the canopy of a cafe for a cappuccino and to get out of the rain. We were of course accosted by a Pakistani selling ponchos. (I think they hid in the shadows waiting for rain and pounce on tourists when raindrops appeared!)  I got into some serious negotiations about the price. We purchased two for five euros and began to enjoy our coffee. There were two guys at the table next to us under the canopy. One asked it we were Americans and we responded that we were. A conversation ensued and we found that the larger man was creating some of the music for a Broadway show. It was based on a Disney film and produced by Bette Midler and Sarah Jessica Parker.  He said he came to Europe occasionally to get inspiration. We meet a lot of interesting people when traveling. The rain stopped  while we were at the cafe and our walk back to the hotel was sans ponchos. But I had made a great deal with the street vendor. Actually, I'm sure he had made a substantial profit..

The next day we would be leaving Rome for Milan and our flight home. Italy had been interesting. But I feel it is highly overrated as a travel destination. Or, perhaps, if we had rented a car or taken a guided tour things would have been different.  Paris is still my favorite city.

What It Was Was Radio

Wikipedia photo

It had been a long day.  But my twelve-year-old body had been scrubbed clean in the number two wash tub in the back yard. The summer sun had heated the water while Daddy and I worked in the fields. And now the sun had set. I was tired but supper of fresh baked cornbread with butter milk had soothed the hunger pains in my stomach. Now I found myself relaxing on the front porch looking out on the fresh swept hard red clay. Things almost glistened in the moon light.  A toad hopped slowly over next to the gardenia bush. In the distant hollows I could hear Doc Miller's coon hounds on the trail of ole ring tail. Doc could tell each dog by its bark. Somewhere, not to far away, someone was making moonshine likker. You could smell the mash fermenting in the summer air. There was that lonesome whistle of the freight train hauling coal from Kentucky to Savannah and the eighteen wheelers straining to make it up Myers Hill. There was the sound of the screech owl but the whip-poor-wills had stopped their song. I could hear the faint sounds of the radio coming from the inside of the house. Daddy would be listening to the radio. It would be another ten years before

we would get a television.  Three years after our first telephone. Daddy would be listening to WCKY, Cincinnati, Ohio. I know how to spell Cincinnati because the man on the Wayne Raney show sold baby chicks by mail and would tell exactly how to spell out the address. B-A-B-Y C-H-I-C-K-S, C-I-N-C-I-N-N-A-T-I, O-H-I-O. And you could order a "How to play the Harmonica" course too. Later Daddy would fall asleep beside the radio and I would sneak in and commandeer it. I would take it to my bedroom being careful not to touch the back of it which was very hot. Then I would plug it into the extension cord I had plugged into the light socket hanging down in the middle of the room. I placed it beside my bed and the electron tubes inside the radio bathed my room in a warm yellow light. The radio had a wooden case with a cloth covering over the speaker between the volume and tuning knobs.  An upright pointer pointed a various numbers on the dail as you tuned in the stations. From out of the night came the sounds from New York, Chicago, New Orleans, El Paso and Nashville. When I was younger  I listened to "The Lone Ranger", "Gang Busters" and "Big John and Sparkie". But now music was my interest. I liked to listen to this rhythm and blues music and this new thing called rock and roll. It had this beat to it that was great.  I couldn't explain it, but it made me feel good. And sometimes later as the Platters sang," Smoke Gets In Your Eyes" or "Red Sails In The Sunset" I'd drift off to sleep.
I would wake up to static on the radio but the songs of the night before would be trapped in my head all day...

• Gang Busters
• Big John and Sparkie
• The Lone Ranger
• Wayne Raney

The Third Smallest Country

San Marino claims to be the oldest surviving sovereign state and constitutional republic in the world. It is the continuation of the monastic community founded on the third of September, 301A.D., by the stonecutter Marinus of Arba. Legend has it that Marinus left Arba, then the Roman colony, in 257A.D. when the future emperor, Diocletian, issued a decree calling for the reconstruction of the city walls of Rimini, which had been destroyed by Liburnianpirates. But how would we get to this historic republic?

We got off the train from Venice in Rimini. The station was rather small but we were able to find our way to the Tourist Information Office. We would be leaving our bags there while we took a bus to San Marino. It was pouring rain. The lady at the Tourist Information Office was very helpful. We stored our bags there(€1.50) and she sold us bus tickets for San Marino. We trudged across the street to a cafe for a little brunch. There is always a time for cappuccino and pastries. As the time for the bus approached we had to find the bus station which we thought was close by.  The lady at the T.I.O. said to catch the bus across the street. But, no, there was no bus station. However, there was a sign at a busstop indicating that the bus for San Marino stopped there.  The bus was on time and we were able to board and get out of the rain although it had slacked up a bit. The bus carried natives and tourists alike and was not an express bus.  That meant that there were many stops along the way. One interesting site we passed was a collection of old airplanes which was on the side of a hill.

After many switchbacks on a very curvy road we reached the sovereign state of San Marino.  It looked just like Italy. From the bus parking lot you could climb a stairway or take an elevator up to the street. The elevator was much like those in Monte Carlo.  We rode. Like most of Italy the buildings were of stone with tile roofs which  were almost flat. The streets were stone as well and very wet. There is no motor vehicle traffic allowed in much of the 1752  acre city 2200 feet above sea level. We walked or rather Claudette walked and I trudged onward and upward until we reached "the pinnacles". That's the name given to the three medieval towers on the top of Mount Tatano. The air was very cool on top of the mountain as we looked down from one of the smallest countries in the world. It may be small but perhaps we Americans could learn something from it. They have no national debt. Their treasury has a surplus. They enjoy the highest per capita income in Europe. As a member of the European Union, the euro is the currency.  Interestingly enough one of the country's popular sources on income is its postage stamps. It is obvious from all the shops that fifty per cent of the country's income comes from tourists.

We walked about the city and enjoyed the churches, many outdoor  sculptures and the beautiful vistas of lands below. And, of course, a bit of window shopping too. Soon it was time to catch the bus back to Rimini. But where was the bus stop? Or the parking lot where we got off the bus?  We were misplaced. Disoriented. Dare I say lost. Communication with the natives proved useless. The translator on my smart phone worked well translating English into Italian. But I could not get anyone to understand how to speak into the phone for it to translate  Italian

into English. Sometimes it is difficult to realize that it is just as frustrating for the non-English speaker as it is for us. We walked. We knew we needed to walk downhill. As we walked along the sidewalk, we heard a bus behind us.  Looking around we saw Rimini on the front of it. Panic stricken and semi-relieved we hailed the bus down. This meant we would not miss the train for Siena.

We caught the train for Siena and would be there by nightfall. Later we would visit Vatican City, another miniscule municipality.