P as in Paul, A as in Apple...

I have a very unique name. A couple of them, actually. The Social Security Administration keeps a list of the top 1000 names given to newborn children registered in that year. To play with this, you can go to http://www.ssa.gov/oact/babynames/ and look up your name or a year and see how popular it is.

According to the SSA, Clint has not been in the top 1000 since the year 2000, when it was number 918. In the year that I was born, it was ranked at 359, with 541 babies registered with that name.

My middle name, Michael, has been in the top 3 for the last 100 years.

Last names aren’t tracked by the SSA as far as I can tell, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I do, however, have a surprisingly unique last name. I have very rarely come across any Parrys that I was not related to. I have met plenty of Perrys in my life, but Parry is apparently quite a recessive name.

Here in Ohio, I have met another family of Parrys, but they claim that their name was changed from Perry a few generations ago as another family of Perrys lived nearby, and it simplified things at the Post Office.

The problem with the Parry/Perry ratio is that everyone assumes Parry is spelled with an E. There have been a lot of famous Perrys through the ages, a search on Wikipedia turns out a couple hundred people with Perry for either a first or last name, yet only 25 famous Parrys.

I had thought with there being a family or two around here with their names spelled Parry, the locals of this area would understand that Parry can (and should?) have an A. No such luck. When I introduce myself over the phone, sometimes I have to pronounce it “Pah-ree” just to get people away from the concept of Perry with an E. However, pronouncing it that way, I once had someone ask me, “Do you mean Paris? Like the city in France?”

It turns out, we Parrys in Ohio will always be overshadowed by Commodore Oliver Perry, for whom the city of Perrysburg is named. Foiled again by those omnipresent Perrys.

There are a lot of places named for Perrys, and only a few named for those of us with an A. The province of Ontario has the township of Perry, which is located in the Parry Sound District and the city of Parry Sound. It looks like we won Ontario.

What has generally annoyed me about Perrys vs. Parrys is that I’ve never considered Perry to be a word. At least Parry can mean something. In fencing and swordplay, a parry is a block of the opponent’s strike. It is also used in general to refer to the warding off of any attack, as in physical or verbal. “The politician parried the reporter’s accusations with a carefully worded, probably pre-prepared alibi.”

I looked it up, apparently perry can be a word. Perry can refer to an alcoholic cider made of Pears. You know, just as Sherry is made of Shears.

I wouldn’t mind as much if once in a while someone would misspell my name Pearry, at least the A would be present.

My first name is almost never spelled incorrectly. There have been enough famous Clints (Clint Eastwood, Clint Black) that my first name is usually understood. Over the phone, people occasionally mishear it as Cliff, which I don’t mind as much.

I don’t get it as often now, but growing up I was constantly referred to as Clinton. My name is not Clinton. It has never been Clinton. I had people who knew me for 15 years say to me, “Huh. I always just thought that Clint was short for Clinton. Or Clintonian.” But it isn’t. That’s my personal tragedy of the Bill Clinton presidency. I used to get all the time, “Your name is Clinton? Like the President.” No. No no no. Clint. Like Eastwood.

My poor brother gets both of his names murdered on everything. My mother gave him the unique name of Colin. We have seen it spelled every different way. Collin. Collen. Kolin. Kollein. Colon. Kelvin. The funny thing is, I have probably met 5 other Colins in the past 10 years. All spelled COLIN. Where do these other mutant spellings come from?

My family is just doomed to have our names misspelled. Along with my mother Christa (Krista, Krysta, Krystal) we get to carry this for the rest of our lives. Such is the cost of our uniqueness.

By the way, there are 2 other Clint Parrys out there in the world that I have found on Facebook. One is does something with Technology Product Management in Atlanta and enjoys mountain biking. The other is some sort of business consultant in Tucson, Arizona. I bet they understand my Clinton Perry problem.

Bizarre Epic Dream, or Don't Mess With Brandon

I was hanging out with several friends in a random, nondescript farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, as you do. Perhaps it was in Iowa or Ohio, or maybe I was channeling Stephen King and it was in Maine.

It was mostly myself and some college friends, though one kid that my brother went to school with, named Brandon, was there. We were all playing Nintendo of some kind when through the doors of this farmhouse enter two little old ladies. Not ancient old, but like The Golden Girls old. They announce that they have brought cookies for all of us.

I immediately know that something is up, as none of the attendees at this Farmhouse Nintendo Party seem to know these two little old ladies. A third comes in, who we’ll call Betty White (as she is everywhere right now) and she declares that she has milk for everyone.

Immediately I am safe from that, because I don’t drink milk. However, I am very skeptical of the whole unannounced Golden Girls in the farmhouse thing. I come to realize that Betty has laced the milk with something that will cause everyone to fall asleep, perhaps she warmed it on the stove in hot water for a few minutes. No matter what, there is a sinister plot afoot.

As I warn the fellow party-goers to abstain from the milk and cookies, one of Betty’s companions, who I will call Blanche (as I don’t remember the actress’s name) realizes that nobody is jumping in on the milk-and-cookies ploy. She figures out that I am the one warning the others, and in an aside, tells me that they had already drugged the water bottle I had been drinking from all day. Man, they’re good.

As I already start to feel myself getting drowsy, I rush to the bathroom of the farmhouse (one just happened to appear as I needed it, you know, dream physics) and immediately down a large dose of DayQuil. Apparently, that did the trick at countering their sleeping drug, as I was immediately revitalized.

I return to the party, which is becoming more and more of a drag as the Golden Girls try to push their evil Milk and Cookies on everyone. I encourage the other partiers to flee, leaving the farmhouse to run around outside for a Benny Hill chase sequence. To those who seem to be drowsy I administer the magical DayQuil and they perk right up. Brandon tries to give someone NyQuil, and I snatch it from his hand. Idiot.

So we run around the yard, around trees, a barn, some flee through an orchard, I manage to get either Blanche or the Bea Arthur character to climb up and subsequently fall into a grain silo. Lucky we were at a farm now, isn’t it?

Blanche seems to have disappeared, and as the rest of the party regroups, Brandon shows up by himself. We he tells us he managed to kill Betty with a pocketknife. “Wow, man, we don’t know if they were trying to kill us. Way to escalate things.”

The dream pretty much winds down from there. We don’t know what happened to that third Milk and Cookie Bandit. We don’t even know what their plans were once they had managed to lure us off to sleep. Maybe they would relocate us to Miami for their new sitcom. What we do know is that everyone is safe for now until the sequel, when Bea Arthur returns with her mother and a plot to seduce us with apple pie.

Brandon is now on the lam, as the police want to know why they found a Betty White type dead in an orchard, and how he managed to kill her with that tiny folding blade.

Question of the day: Do your dreams ever follow a complete storyline with an introduction, rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution? Mine are like the perfect example of a 9th grade English Class.

Ohio in Your Favorite Show!

Over the last week, I caught up on the show Melissa & Joey. It is a pretty good show, set in Toledo, which is why I watched it, as I live pretty near there. The first couple of episodes were pretty corny, but it has evened out quite a bit.

I am disappointed in the lack of reference to Toledo, however, other than the fact that they say "Toledo" once every couple of episodes. And there was a MudHens decal on the door to the garage. Also, "Dancing with the Stars of Toledo" had no mention of Jamie Farr. Really. He could have been a judge. Or he could have been busy doing something cooler than Dancing with the Stars of Toledo, which in real life would probably be even more lame than it was on the show (it wasn't supposed to look awesome).

Also, it is always southern California sunny on that show. Here in Northwest Ohio, it can be completely overcast for two weeks in a row. Give me an establishing shot of the brown Maumee River with that gray Ohio sky and I will have an easier time pretending the show takes place in Toledo.
Though The Office was filmed in California, they sent cast and crew to Scranton for establishing shots and local memorabilia. Did you know that the shots of Scranton in the opening title sequence were done by John Krasinski, who plays Jim? It’s true. It says so on Wikipedia. They also reference local restaurants, bars, and landmarks, the county, neighboring towns, and more.

Come on, Melissa & Joey. You could get a lot of local support by referencing local things like Fifth Third Field, actual street names or neighborhoods, Glass City skyway or Libbey Glass, the Toledo Museum of Art, Lake Erie, the Maumee river, nearby towns/suburbs, even vague Ohio generalities like Cedar Point or something. They don’t have to do shameless local plugs, but a couple dashes here or there would go a long way. One of the jokes on an episode of Melissa & Joey was about a local newscaster who got hit in the head with a stop sign during a hurricane. Which is funny, because Toledo is 600 miles from the Atlantic, depending on to where you measure. Maybe she got her start somewhere out there before coming to Toledo?

I’m not even asking you to plug Tony Packo’s like they did on M*A*S*H. Did you know that on M*A*S*H they sent away for sausage casings from Packo’s in an episode to use in an experimental artificial kidney machine? I don’t think I made that up.

Drew Carey and the Drew Carey Show were set in Cleveland, where he was born, along with Halle Berry and Patricia Heaton. They didn’t live together and were born a few years apart, but all were from Cleveland.

The Drew Carey Show made references to Cleveland or Ohio all the time, and the “Cleveland Rocks” title sequence was largely filmed there.

Even the show Glee, which I don’t watch (or have any desire to) takes place in Lima(Lie-Muh), Ohio. When I was researching references to real towns in popular shows, I found a page describing about a dozen or so hidden or prominent references to Lima on Glee. I don’t know why Glee is set in Lima, because Lima is not the nicest town I’ve been to in Ohio. Collapsing industry with few available cultural activities (or much entertainment at all) make Lima a pretty depressing place. A friend of mine had his car broken into twice a month when he lived in Lima. Lived in fear, more like.
So come on, Melissa & Joey. You can do better with Toledo than passing references of the name of the town. It is set in Toledo for a reason; did that writer die since first envisioning it taking place there?

I’ve gotten a little local Ohioan opinion of Jamie Farr. I have heard that he is a nice guy, though some think he has played out the M*A*S*H and Toledo’s favorite son thing. He is generous, still lives here, and therefore makes local appearances and regularly attends MudHens games, from a private booth, of course. I’ve not met him, though if I did, Id like to hope that I’d be pretty cool about it. “Hi Mr. Farr, how are you, have a nice day.” Once my mother stood behind Eric Idle (of Monty Python fame) in line at an art museum and she didn’t bother him for an autograph, and I really respect that. He was there to enjoy the museum, not be bugged by fans. Or maybe he was. Either way, it was really cool of her.
Anyways, I would like to get a local opinion on Drew Carey, Melissa & Joey, and Glee, if I can get close enough to Lima without getting my car broken into.

By the way, a lot of people here in Ohio don’t get it if you read the state postal abbreviation (OH) as an interjection. “I’m from Toledo, Oh!” They don’t get it. I would think that you would grow up with that in this state. Maybe they are messing with me.

Did you know? Pretty much every town in northwest Ohio has more than one pronunciation. Some examples:
Toledo: To-lee-do (in town) or To-lee-duh (country folk)
Archbold: Arch-i-buld (from there) or Arch-bold (from near there)
Wauseon: Wah-see-un (most people) or Waw-si-ON (my neighbor)
Lima: Lie-muh (Ohio natives) or Lee-muh (people who know of Peru, Pierce Brosnan)
Sylvania: Sill-vane-yuh (from there) or Sill-vahn-yuh (most everyone else)
Holland: Hall-und (from there or Toledo) or To-lee-do (everyone else)

The Silent Torturer- The Jaw Twinge

Picture this: You wake up at the crack of dawn, 9:04 AM. You roll out of bed and your ankle pops slightly as you put weight on it. You shuffle blearily out into the kitchen and pull the box of Frosted Mini-Wheats off the shelf. Stuffing your hand directly into the box, you pull out one of those sugar coated fiber nuggets and pop it into your mouth. All is well until… you bite down. A searing pain strikes you just behind the earlobe, as if someone has driven a nail into that soft spot where your jaw hinges. You have fallen prey to… The Jaw Twinge!

Well, you probably never have. But this short cereal drama was created to illustrate a very real affliction that ails literally tens of people around the world.

I personally am a sufferer of what my Grandpa referred to as “The Jaw Twinge.” It has happened to me my entire life. My mother also suffers from it, though I am not sure of its regularity for her.

For me, The Twinge occurs whenever I bite down into something, usually hard or chewy, after several hours of not chewing, munching, crunching or otherwise masticating something into a pulp. I can experience it several times a day; sometimes it is worse than others. The pain lasts for a few seconds and then disperses. On a pain scale, I’d place it somewhere below Childbirth, but above watching it on The Learning Channel.

Aside from the discomfort of having someone shove a ball point pen into your jaw joint, we Twingers also are subject to a lifetime of dining companions observing our pained expression, one which conveys the idea that what we have just bitten into was not a hamburger, but instead turned out to be a dead hamster. It isn’t that we don’t enjoy the food, it is that our jaw has kicked itself, and rather hard.

Tragically, just as with our fellow diners, this problem is not particularly understood. An online search for “Jaw Twinge” yields very few results, I guess not a lot of people refer to it in this manner. The only malady of the jaw and ear area that I could find which sort of fits my symptoms is a Temporomandibular Joint Disorder (+1000 Scrabble Score). This is a disorder of the blood vessels, tendons, muscles, ligaments, lagnuts, pins, bolts, and rubber bands that make your jaw work.

The problem with TMD is that its manifestations are broad, everything from a popping sound when you chew to migraines and tinnitus.

Many of the underlying causes of the disorder, so I have found, are brought about by trauma or mishap, either from clenching or grinding teeth in the night, improper dental surgery, or a degenerative joint disease that affects more than just the jaw. I’m not a clencher or a tooth grinder, so for me, it isn’t that.

I still haven’t been able to find out why it has happened to me my whole life, or why the sensation lasts only a few seconds. I suppose that I will continue to live with it, for the rest of my life, until someone adequately describes and finds out exactly what “The Twinge” is all about.

In the meantime, if you are sharing a meal with me and I make some sort of a grimace, either I have just experienced The Twinge or you have fed me a hamster.

Look for The Twinge Thursday nights this fall on CBS.

Question of the Day: Do you have a malady that defies scientific understanding? Do you have a relative that defies scientific understanding?