There
is an droll little poem that is lodged in my consciousness since the
first time I read it as a little boy from the pages of Childcraft
literature volumes collected in my family's library.
I never saw a purple cow
I never hope to see one
But if I saw a purple cow
I'd rather see that be one
That
is the poem as I remember it from my childhood. It was illustrated, as I
recall by a retouched photo of a little girl standing nearby or perhaps
feeding grass to a cow that had been made to look purple. Even then I
could tell by the over-saturation of the color that the image was a
product of "trick photography'".
But
the way the lines skipped along as it expressed a bit of a snarky
attitude caught my fancy and has stayed with me all these years.
Recently,
upon searching various internet sources through Google, I discovered
the text of the actual, original poem by Gelett Burgess:
I never saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one;
But I can tell you, anyhow,
I'd rather see than be one.
So
the version that I've repeated to my self these decades hence has been
flawed. But the sentiment of incredulity and sass hardly ever failed to
give me a little smile. And now that I have gained a glimpse of the
poem's origin, it seems like the kind of poem that would be written in
an era when people would name their children "Gelett". I wonder if I
identified with the poem because deep down I knew it was written by a
person, like me, who was given an odd name. I've been able to pass
relatively unscathed through life by being called by my middle name
"Doug" (technically it's "Douglas"). But at doctors' offices and in
other official settings, I would be reminded that my first name is
"Orrin".
Yet
the perceived peculiarity of names is not a constant factor in the
popular imagination. "Doug" was a popular name in my generation. But I
rarely hear of boys born today being given that name. To me, these are
the days of different names. Even the old stand-bys like Richard, and
James and Michael are made more distinctive because the shortened forms
of them (Dick, Jim, Mike) that were in common use when I was in school
are being discarded in favor of the longer form. Any of my childhood
friends who were named "Michael" would have thought it too stuffy or
presumptuous to be called anything other than "Mike".
Although
I never discussed it with him, I take comfort in the fact that my
father grappled with similar name logistics as I have. Given the first
name of "Rue", family and friends called him by his middle name "Edward"
--"Ed" for short, of course. When he joined the military all his fellow
soldiers called him "Rue Edward", according to my mom. And that is what
she called him from the earliest times I can remember.
Once, as a fifth grader, I attended a district-wide rehearsal for a choral event where my music class was to perform songs with children from other schools. I met a boy whose last name was the same as mine. When I told him my father's name, Rue, he crinkled up his nose in reaction to the odd, unfamiliar name. The next day when I saw him at a second rehearsal, he exclaimed, "Why didn't you tell me your dad is Uncle Ed?!" I then found out that we were second cousins. His father was a first cousin of mine and my dad was a favorite uncle. It's a small world. And it is populated with purple cows.
2019 NOTE: Recently, I found out that I have some (slight) common name origins with actor Armie Hammer (Lone Ranger, Man from U.N.C.L.E). Both he and I were given our first names in honor of our Great Grandfathers (his, Armand; mine, Orrin) and both of our middle names is Douglas. No big deal but for me it's a fun fact! ^_^
June 2019 Newsworthy Name-related story:
Dr. Marijuana Pepsi Vandyck earned her Ph.D with a dissertation on black names: “I’ve grown into my name because I am a strong woman. I’ve had to be." https://t.co/lM43q6N04D via @blackvoices— Tigrikorn 🐯🦄✨🌈 (@odouglasj) June 20, 2019
Her story of how living with her name because, "...I am a strong woman..." reminded me of the classic Johnny Cash song "A Boy Named Sue".
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