Monday, August 1, 2011

a.k.a. "A Rose"

The writer widely known as William Shakespeare, possibly a pen-name, put these words in the sweet mouth of his character Juliet:

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.

I entered Paw Paw Bill in my browser. Some results directed me to postings about opera at the movies in HD, others to personal accounts of hearing loss and cochlear implants, satire from the second U.S. President, whose wit is burried safely in the vaults history, memories of my first week in Cairo brought to mind by this year’s uprisings in Egypt.

I could invite the Paw Paw Bill on Facebook to be my friend, because the user of that name I recognize from his picture is not myself. Might he be interested in John Adams, Placido Domingo, and/or Hosni Mubarak?

A touching testimonial from a grandchild says “My Paw Paw Bill is one of the most incredible men I’ve ever known. He is everything you would imagine a grandfather to be.” This is not from anybody related to me.

The Alabama House of Representatives passed legislation 99-0 standing up for the rights of grandparents, whatever sort of mess the parents of grandchildren can create. The bill protects grandparents' visitation rights with their grandchildren. Democratic Rep. Yusuf Salaam of Selma said the issue was important because often grandparents are the "stabilizing force" in the lives of their grandchildren. Salaam called the legislation the "Paw-Paw bill."

I must have had grand-parents. My daddy was an only child, raised by his step-mother. His father walked with a limp from unknown sources, sometimes a stagger from an origin known all too well. My daddy never touched a drop of alcohol. "That's like your grand-daddy Cotter" was the worse accusation anybody in my family knew.

My mother did not get along with her mother. Grandma Varner visited us once. Her bottom lip was puffed out with Tube Rose Snuff, and I had been warned to be careful and not tip over her dip cup. She cooked chicken and dumplins and an apple pie, the best I can ever remember. I saw a photo of my grand-daddy Varner, when I was about 17. He was about 50 in the photo. Seeing the photo was like looking in a mirror and seeing the future. DNA is more amazing than time-travel.

I think the name Cotter Pen suggests a persona more worldly than Paw Paw Bill. Maybe after I get used to my new blog name, I will do some traveling in real time. It is a big, wide world.

I know the stork brings babies, but I do not know where decisions come from. You just wake up one morning and see something different from the day before.

1 comment:

Tina said...

You could become William Shakepen???
Thinking of the possible origin of Cotter as a name. My guess is from a dwelling, i.e. cottager....


Hit Counter
Boden Clothes