There’s a hidden treasure in Adirondack Park.
You don’t need a treasure map and it’s not marked
with a great big “X.” Instead, it’s marked with a
great big “S.” Followed by a “t.” Then an “e.” Then
“w, a, r, t, ‘, s.” Put them all together and what do
you have?
You have an incredibly diversified treasure of
resources. As all of you probably already know, but
I’ve only recently discovered, Stewart’s is a place
where one can pick up ice cream as well as gasoline.
Advil and motor oil. Pizza, air fresheners, beef jerky,
smokes, bungee cords, nail polish, Cup-O-Noodles,
fishing lures, coffee, kindling, pudding, bug spray, a
damn good sandwich and, of course, Super Softee
Donuts. But that’s just the beginning.
Stewarts is also where you can pick up the latest
news. Yes, they carry the Adirondack Daily
Enterprise, but I’m talking about supplemental
news. For instance: I was in Stewarts recently and,
while waiting in line to buy my Super Softee Donuts,
I happened to overhear a conversation between
two women that maybe I shouldn’t have…but did.
Now, I fully expected to hear something about the
Rail Trail or the fire that took out Aubuchon’s, or
maybe an insight about our local school board.
Instead, I heard a tidbit regarding Jesus of all things.
Yes, that Jesus. My ears perked up immediately.
What I heard was this: according to one woman,
Jesus had a middle name. The other woman was
astonished, as was I. Despite years of catholic
school under my belt, I had never heard that He had
a middle name! This was exciting stuff!!!
The funny thing (and I mean FUNNY) is that the first
woman said that his middle name was Harold.
Harold? I wasn’t sure my ears were working
properly. I wanted to ask, but of course, being
polite and fairly new to the area, I didn’t: “You
mean Mary actually named her son Jesus Harold
Christ???”
Okay, all of you Harolds out there can cool your jets.
Harold is a fine name. It just seems odd for
someone in the Bible, let alone Jesus Christ, to be
called “Harold” don’t you think? It’s just
too…current. Might as well be Gus or Charlie or
Skeeter. It does, however, explain the one phrase
that I’ve heard which never made any sense to me.
But I suppose He could have signed His checks with,
“Jesus H. Christ.” Or maybe I’ve just been hearing
the lyrics to that one Christmas tune wrong all my
life: maybe it’s actually “Hark the Harold angels
sing.”
Now I know His mates probably didn’t go around
saying things like “Hey, Harold, what’s with the
sandals?” But I do wonder what name He went by
every day. Now, the ladies in line at Stewart’s didn’t
get into this, but they made me wonder: did folks
have nicknames back then?
As I crept closer to the Stewart’s cashier, my Super
Softees begging to be opened, I asked myself, did
Peter, Mark, Matthew and Paul call Jesus things like
Jeez? Or Halo-head? Or Cool J Messiah? I mean if
His middle name could be Harold, nicknames are
hardly a stretch. It was then that I finally reached
the counter and saw the cashier’s name tag on her
lapel. It read simply, Liz. This only fueled my
nickname fire.
I’ve got a neighbor we call Pot Roast. His wife is
called Shanky. Another neighbor is called Woody
which, given our location, is a little more
understandable. Strange thing about some
nicknames, though, is that they have a life
expectancy — it’s hard to continue calling someone
“Stinky”when they grow up to be a neurosurgeon.
On a personal note, the author has a lot in common
with the Kennedy clan. First, my legal name is John,
but everyone calls me Jack…same as President John
F. Kennedy. When I was a little shaver, my grandma
used to call me John-John…same as JFK Junior.
Jacqueline Kennedy was often called Jackie…my
entire family called me Jackie until I was, uh, well,
they still call me Jackie.
I got in my car, eagerly ripped open my donuts, and,
on my journey home, with white donut powder
wafting in the air, I felt a little sad. A little sad
because, first, I was leaving Stewart’s, but mostly
because, unlike Jesus Harold Christ, I was given a
nickname but never assigned a middle name and
I’ve always felt cheated by that.
Call it my cross to bear.