As we’ve travelled around the USA, I’ve always found it interesting how the names of places reflect their history.
We left Chicago at the end of December on our way to Tucson, where we have decided to live, for a little while at least. We left the Windy City much later than planned due to some unexpected aggravations.
The first complication was the car deciding that, since we were leaving on a big trip, it needed its oil changed. Our van is very modern and will tell you when it needs its oil changed, but it’s not on a regular schedule. In that way it’s a bit like a toddler that knows they need to go to the bathroom and announces it at the last second, causing their parents to spring into frenzied action. “I need to go now!” “I need my oil changed now!” Although we’ve been taking the car out on a fairly regular basis, it decided that since we didn’t have any spare time that day, it needed its oil changed.
Complication number two was a failure of the apartment building to do what they said they were going to do. Namely, allow us to move out easily by programming the freight elevator for us and opening the loading dock doors. We had scheduled the freight elevator for that morning, but there was no freight elevator to be had. No problem, we’ll take the elevator with a back door and get to the car that way. Oops, nope, the loading dock doors are closed.
Taking matters into my own hands, I parked on the front sidewalk and proceeded to bring our stuff down from the 59th floor and stuff it into the car. As I was stuffing my second load into the car, a security guard walked up and told me that I couldn’t park there, on the sidewalk, in front of the building. After informing her on the lack of elevator and the closed loading dock doors, I challenged her to find a solution for me. Challenge accepted, she strode off as I moved the car to the alley and the rest of the packing went smoothly. Thank you security guard!
Now several hours behind schedule, we stopped and gave the “Hive” (our blog’s namesake) the oil change it craved, and headed down to St. Louis where we spent the night. Due to the long day, we ordered dinner from The Olive Garden, where we never eat, and had a good nights sleep. Coincidentally our daughter in Alaska and her boyfriend celebrated their anniversary by going to The Olive Garden in Anchorage the exact, same, night! Family togetherness when you’re spread all over a continent. I’ll take what I can.
The next morning, we headed out on a long drive to Dallas, TX, our next stop. As I was sipping my morning coffee and driving, we passed Pomme de Terre Lake! There is also a Pomme de Terre stream that feeds that lake. We were surrounded by all these “Pommes” of “de Terre”!
So what exactly is a “Pomme de Terre”? Quickly utilizing my knowledge of Latin, I knew “Terre” meant “Earth”, as in “Terra Firma”, and “Terraforming”. But what the heck is a Pomme? It sounds very pretentious by itself and more-so when you round your mouth while saying it and slightly lowering your voice. Pomme. Yep, it’s French.
Beth translated this to English and accurately reported it as “Apple of the Earth”. Except she was wrong. Putting my knowledge of French to work, I knew it was actually a potato! Those weird and whacky French had been to the middle of Eastern Missouri and named something “Potato.” Why? I don’t know. I’m just happy that I was able to put my two words of Latin and one French vegetable to their fullest use by solving this riddle. Fortunately there weren’t more French or Latin words to translate the rest of the trip, or I’d have been in trouble.
So why Potato Lake and Potato stream? It turns out the lake is artificial and named after the stream a wandering Frenchman decided looked like a potato. Or maybe he thought it was good for growing potatoes? Or maybe he was hungry for potatoes? We may never know.
That’s what’s so cool about traveling! You never know what you will find. In this case, a food cultivated for centuries in the Andes was brought over to Europe. It was declared an Apple of the Earth by the awed Frenchmen, who then crossed back over the Atlantic to North America. And then, while wandering around the middle of the continent with potatoes on their mind, came across this stream in the middle of nowhere and named it after the food they were craving. Viola! We have a Pomme de Terre stream! And because of that stream and the Army Core of Engineers, we have Pomme de Terre Lake! And I love french fries!
Sorry, I might have gone too far in the previous paragraph and done a disservice to French people everywhere. We (that is, us English speakers in North America) should consider the “apple of my eye” saying. If you are not familiar with this term, I can tell you that it’s not a medical condition and it’s not contagious. When someone is the apple of your eye it means that you love them, maybe even exclusively. Instead of lacking words, perhaps the French were so enamored with the potato that they named it Pomme de Terre to express their passionate love of this apple-like thing that came from the earth. The French, passion, and love – it’s a thing.
Does anyone know how Dallas got its name? It makes no sense to me. El Paso makes total sense; it means The Pass in Spanish. How about Tucson? Again, it makes no sense. Outside of Dallas, we stayed with a dear friend and her husband in Grapevine, Texas. Grapevine got it’s name due to its location on the appropriately-named Grape Vine Prairie near Grape Vine Springs, both names in homage to the wild grapes that grew in the area.
And how do you pronounce Tucson? It’s pronounced like the bird with a big colored beak selling round hoops of breakfast cereal, the Toucan. Too-can. Too-son. Maybe a Conquistador with a soft Barcelona lisp was trying to name it after the bird? As with Potato stream, we may never know.
I actually have no idea how most places got their names. However, some are easy, such as “New York”, “New Jersey”, “New Brunswick”; named by homesick Englishmen, obviously. Yet others are plainly from the Indians (how confused were those original explorers to name them Indians?). Names such as “Detroit”, “Ontario”, “Dupont”, “Winnebego” are all Indian names. Others are fun to say; Walla Walla, Washington and Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, for example – even if I don’t know where they come from. And now that Beth had read this, and added how Grapevine got its name (a question she asked when we were there), she is going to find out how all these places got their names!
So, now we’re in Tucson for the foreseeable future and enjoying sunshine and warmer weather. I am ignoring that one morning when Anchorage (known as a good place to park your boat), Alaska was warmer than Tucson by a whole degree Fahrenheit. More news to come soon about life in Tucson!
