It's strange, but I've had a couple of people initiate conversation me in the last month -- pretty much out of the blue -- to talk about the meaning of my last name.  "Hey, I just learned what your last name means," the conversation goes.  "Do you know what your last name means?" I have a few ideas of what my last name means, but having had this conversation numerous times throughout the course of my life, I tell them that it depends.

According to Wikipedia, the word "Asp is the modern Anglicization of the word aspis, which in antiquity referred to any one of several venomous snake species found in the Nile region.  It is believed that the aspis referred to in Egyptian mythology is the modern Egyptian cobra."  This is what most people are getting at, when they say that they've discovered the "secret" meaning of my last name.  An Asp is a kind of snake.  "Which means I better watch out for you!  Har, har, har..." is the standard follow-up joke.  The deadly snake -- perhaps most famous for being the instrument of Queen Cleopatra's suicide -- has also given rise to modern usages of the name "Asp" for (among other things) a type of hand-gun and for the name of (the little orphan) Annie's Chinese chauffeur / body-guard.

As far as I've figured out, however, my last name is actually more closely linked to the Aspen tree than to the Aspis snake.  At least when it comes to Swedish and Norwegian names (there's some confusion about which side of the Scandinavian peninsula our ancestors -- and indeed all people with the surname Asp -- came from), the surname Asp generally indicates "dweller by the aspen trees."  It's a name derived from geography -- from a landmark.  And since this is a lot more peaceful and pleasant and benign than the idea of being named after a deadly snake, this is usually the definition that I typically embrace.

It really goes further than etymology, though, doesn't it?  Ultimately, the public perception of any given name comes down to random word association.  And that's where I've been saddled with a name that sounds unfortunately similar to the English word "ass."  Yes, there are other near-homonyms as well -- "ask" and "as," for instance.  But those sound-alikes are not nearly as fun for experimentation among school-aged children.  Thus through the years, I've picked up a lot of creative permutations of the name Asp, including (but by no means limited to) the following:

• Kick-Asp
• Kiss-Asp
• Jack-Asp
• Dumb-Asp
• Pain-in-the-Asp
• Asp-hole
• Smart Asp
• Hairy Asp
• Rudy-poo candy-Asp (i.e. an adjective, describing anything exceptionally wimpy)
• Big-Asp (i.e. an adjective describing anything exceptionally large)

One of the classic jokes along these lines goes with the naming of children, given the fact that Harry, Jack, and Candy are occasionally used as personal names (and how cruel it would be for me, as a parent, to give one of these names to a child born into our family name!).  But suffice to say:  I've heard these variations on my last name for so long that it's even gotten to the point where I can genuinely appreciate it if anyone comes up with a new one!  It's a whole lot more fun to play along and make light of the situation than it is to become hurt or offended anytime someone pulls one of these word associations out.  So I'm curious:  can any of you think of any other good ones?  I'll give bonus points to anyone who comes up with something original...

And in the meantime, I'll just go on with being an Asp.

Language is full of trap-doors, surprise snares, pitfalls.  But I only recently figured out that the Dutch word for this type of misleading mistake -- valkuil -- is, in fact, a trap-door surprise of its own.

You see, previously, I had always heard the word valkuil as valk - uil (falcon - owl).  And I had actually come to like the connotation of a dangerous falcon-owl, catching us in our moments of weakness.  It seemed like a very vibrant word-picture:  some stealthy bird of prey sneaking up behind us on a seemingly pleasant and peaceful evening stroll and digging his talons into our unsuspecting shoulders.

But for whatever reason, it just recently dawned on me that my personal translation of this word has been incorrect.  Embarrassingly off.  The more correct interpretation of the phrase valkuil is actually val - kuil (fall - pit).  Of course, this actually makes a lot more sense, as it's basically a direct translation of the English term "pit-fall."  But, albeit more logical, I somehow find this realization disappointing.

So all that to say this:  Beware the valkuil, whether it's the talons or the drop.

Elliot has somehow gotten back into the habit of blogging again.  It's hard to say how long his interest will last, but for the time being he's writing a lot of poems on his blog.   Most of them are kind of silly, but today he wrote one that I thought was genuinely beautiful.  I thought I'd share it with you:

The Autumn Sounds
By Elliot Asp

The birds are flying in the breeze.
The leaves are shaking in the trees.

The mole
is digging his hole.

The skink
is taking his drink.

The deer
is sitting right here.

The squirrel
is going to hurl
acorns at the girl.

And I
am looking at the sky.

It's definitely getting to be autumn here in Amsterdam.  I don't mind too much -- though the prospect of imminent winter does not excite me.  And it certainly would be nice to see more of the leaves and acorns and deer and such that are actually a bit hard to come by in the city.  But even so, I'm choosing to enjoy the moment for what it is.   Autumn in Amsterdam.

I was talking with my friend Marc this afternoon about formal titles.  It was fascinating to learn of some of the intricacies of the Dutch language.  For instance, the most proper for of address for a mayor in the Netherlands is De hoogedelgestrenge heer.  Thus, if addressing an official letter to Amsterdam's mayor Job Cohen, you'd address it to "De hoogedelgestrenge heer Cohen."  Literally translated, that means "the highly-noble-very-stern Mr. Cohen."  Isn't that awesome?!?!?  The principal of the high school (let's pretend this one is a woman) would be "De weledelgestrenge vrouwe __________" -- "the definitely-noble-yet-stern Ms. ___________."  Seeing that I serve as the leader of a church community (which tends more towards the Protestant end of the spectrum than the Catholic), it may not be too far-fetched to think that I could be addressed as "De weleerwaarde heer/vrouwe Dominee Asp" -- "The Definitely-Honorable Mister-Reverend Asp."  Sounds kind of nice, huh? :-)  You can find a specific title for just about any role in society on the Wikipedia page about "Aanspreekvorm."

Then I found out about the English equivalents.

To my surprise, there were almost two times as many forms of official "honorifics" in the English language!  Most of us probably know that the President of the United States is officially addressed as "Mr. President."  Or that a judge is typically called "The Honorable Judge __________" (addressed as "Your honor" in a court-room setting).  But did you know that there's also a special form of address for the King of Hungary ("His Apostolic Majesty")?  Or that a bishop in the Church of England should be addressed as "The Right Reverend and Right Honourable _________?"  Crazy stuff, isn't it?  In case you're interested, you can also find more information about English honorifics on the Wikipedia page about "Manner of Address."

I love this kind of stuff in theory.  I hate this kind of stuff in practice.  Good thing almost everyone I know is content to simply call me "Eric."  But if you really wanted to try out "De weleerwaarde heer Dominee Asp," well... I'd be willing to give it a try. :-)

You know that pesky H1N1 virus that's been filling up headlines for the last several months?  It now seems that it's not quite the killer that it was once rumored to be (in fact, I can now say that a personal acquaintance of mine has suffered from -- and safely survived -- the virus); however, I think it still serves as a very interesting sociological study.

You see, in the United States of America, the virus has become popularly known as the "Swine Flu" (since it was originally carried by pigs).  Pigs are presumably innocent, morally-neutral characters in American society -- so nobody is really offended by the label "Swine Flu."  But if anyone were to call it "Mexican Flu" (which is the most popular European name for the disease) -- well, that's borderline racism.  "What?!?  Are you saying that all Mexicans are dirty, disease-carrying mongrels or something?  I can't believe that you would stoop to that level of racial stereotyping!"  So no, no... We'd better call it "Swine Flu" (or better yet, "H1N1").  The poor piggies can't help it.  And believe it or not, the American health authorities have waged a very deliberate PR campaign to make sure that the sickness does not enter the American-English vernacular as "Mexican Flu."  Because there are enough tensions already between whites and Latinos in the United States.  No one wants to go around riling things up based on a name for a flu.

But in the Netherlands, it's interesting to note that the same virus has become (as previously noted) known as the "Mexican Flu" ("Mexikaanse Griep") -- since, well, the virus seems to have originated in Mexico.  And Mexicans are presumably innocent, morally-neutral characters in Dutch society -- so nobody is really offended by the label "Mexican Flu."  But if anyone were to call it "Swine Flu" ("Varkensgriep") -- well, that's just plain culturally insensitive.  "What?!?  We can't have this disease linked to pigs!  Can't you imagine the shame and disgust among the Jews and Muslims, who are very careful never to touch anything related to pigs?  I can't believe you would stoop to that level of cultural insensitivity!"  So no, no... We'd better call it "Mexican Flu" (or better yet,"H1N1").  The poor Mexicans can't help it.  And believe it or not, the Dutch health authorities have waged a very deliberate PR campaign to make sure that the sickness does not enter the Dutch vernacular as "Swine Flu."  Because there are enough tensions already between whites and Muslims in the Netherlands.  No one wants to go around riling things up (or hindering effective treatment of the disease) based on a name for a flu.

Isn't that fascinating?  One culture's good is another culture's bad, and vice-versa.  I've seen it many times in the last several years of living in Amsterdam (my second culture) -- but perhaps never so clearly, and so clearly inverted, as with the naming of the dreaded H1N1 virus...