The Wolfsies are moving. We checked out lots of places. In one neighborhood, we saw a Commander Avenue, Commander Way, Commander Circle and Commander Court. Did they run out of nautical terms right after they named the development Commander Point? In another community, we saw Sheila Road, Shelly Court and Shirley Way. These must have been the builder’s daughters. Or his ex-wives.
We presently live on a street with a long Indian name. My son was 10 before he could pronounce it and 17 before he could spell it, so I used to tell him that if he had to call 911 for me, it would be easiest just to drag me out to the highway.
One thing we learned is to never ask for directions within a housing development. Even the people who live there are clueless.
“Excuse me, can you tell me where Ernest Hemingway Drive is?”
“Uh, let’s see. This is Nathaniel Hawthorne Lane and the next left is Herman Melville Court. Or maybe it’s Henry Thoreau Terrace. Are you sure Ernest Hemingway Drive is around here? It may be over in the 20th-century author section across the street.”
People don’t know the names of nearby streets because they don’t know people who live close by. All their friends live in classier places, maybe named after French writers or books, although I wouldn’t want to live on Les Miserables Drive.
We once gave up trying to find a friend’s new home. After an hour, we swallowed our pride and asked a guy walking his dog, “Excuse me, sir, can you tell us how to get to the main road?”
“Sorry, but I can’t help you. I’ve only lived here a year. Would you like directions to the pool?”
“No, we don’t want to go to the pool. We want to get out of here.”
“OK, let’s try this: Turn left on the street that’s named after that guy who wrote “The Prince and the Pauper,” then a right on the road named after the man who…what’s his name? He wrote “For Whom the Bell Tolls.”
We got home at 3 a.m. What a novel experience.
