by Kevin Burton
Now flowers come from seeds. But flower etymologies come from every linguistic corner under heaven, ubiquitous as the flowers themselves it seems.
On a beautiful Spring day, imagine an average couple driving the highways and byways of the heartland in a beautiful 2012 Toyota. And the wife might say, “Do you see those flowers? That’s beautiful.”
And the husband might say, “That’s hideous!”
Well, of course the husband doesn’t really think the flowers are hideous, he’s just trying to get a rise out of his bride of 13 years, and don’t forget the five years they dated before they tied the beautiful knot.
What the husband really means is he doesn’t appreciate the flowers, per se, but does enjoy the seemingly infinite color combinations.
The wife is taken by the flowers. But the husband’s languid gaze could just as well have fallen upon colorful lumps of gelatin or piles of Legos, or varieties of M&Ms, as per the character M&M Carlson, in the book That Was Then, This Is Now, by S.E. Hinton.
No, his fictional parents didn’t name him M&M, and it is never revealed what they did name him, but it is revealed that he was 13 years old and was enamored of the colors of the candies in the bag, and this could be a fictional bag or a real bag, and that’s how he got the nickname M&M.
But my nickname was “Bird” or “Birdman” just because bird sounds like Burton. That had nothing to do with colors or combinations of colors and you wouldn’t think that would be a thing anyway at the Ohio State School for the Blind, since some of the people couldn’t see colors.
But what are we seeing, when we differentiate colors? What’s the difference between silver and gray, really, but that gleam in your eye? Maybe silver is that glass of water, half full, and gray is the glass half empty?
And now you begin to see just how easily the mind of a man, as opposed to the mind of a woman, can wander from flowers to something else, M&Ms or anything else.
Only thing there is, people name girls after flowers. The mind of a man, if it wanders, as it will, wanders most naturally to women.
And ha ha, get this!, Parade Magazine lists 150 flower names for girls and number 54 is “Geranium.”
Talk about your boy-named-Sue, name-based, bar-fight-inducing seething rage, “Geranium!”
Name number 47 is “Foxglove” which is pretty awkward, but at least lends itself to the nickname “Foxi,” which is way cool.
Ladies, would you rather be called Geranium or M&M?
Wow.
And here the feeling washes over me that today I was supposed to be bringing you an offering from Merriam-Webster dictionary, etymology bites as it were, from flower names. And I don’t mind that so much, it was my idea in the first place. All these e-mails and I pick the ones to post. And Spring just started. And people seemed to like the plant idioms I posted.
But I want to be the cool teacher. Because the class always tries to get the teacher off the subject. I was so good at that. It should have been my major in college.
Willow is a flower name for a girl, and not just any girl, my granddaughter! God bless all the Willows of the world. Willows rock!
Iris is good. Rhoda is Greek for “rose.” Sharon is a flower? Actually a region in Palestine where roses grow.
Don’t roses grow pretty much everywhere?
And “how does your garden grow?” What kind of question is that? How does anybody’s garden grow?
They say there are no stupid questions and I get what they mean by that. If you don’t know something, ask. Get the information. Doesn’t matter if it’s very simple. It’s more stupid to not ask a question out of embarrassment.
But I may do a post on stupid questions someday because not all questions are created equal.
For instance, “where is the plunger” is a very, very stupid question. OK, not so much the question, but the need to ask the question, because – hello – there is no reason to keep a plunger anywhere other than right next to the toilet.
And now my lesson plan is in tatters, trampled like a flower under a wayward lawn mower.. But I think Merriam-Webster of all people should understand.
Haven’t you ever gone to look up something in the dictionary and gotten distracted by other interesting definitions on the same page?
If you’ve only ever found definitions on google, you’ve missed out on something wonderful there.
But I promise you on my best intentions, tomorrow, I will bring you the buttoned-down flower etymologies, beginning with what Merriam-Webster may call a flower, but I call a scourge – the dandelion.
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