I’ve always geeked out on street names. Not boring ones like Elm, Oak, and Maple, but names that sound like the title of a must-see Netflix series - Burning Pond Way, Locust Thorn Drive, Salem Church Road. The poetry in certain street names evokes for me stories about Grandpa burying a treasure in the woods, clandestine witches’ meetings, fire roads winding up lonely mountains, or just sitting under a tree on a summer day. And don’t we all need more that inspires us in the daily grind of our lives? Isn’t it more invigorating to say you are meeting a friend for lunch on Cougar Canyon Circle instead of on Main Street?
I think I would do a pretty good job as a street namer if I could ever figure out how to land the commission. I would sit at my desk with a cup of Citrus Sunrise tea, and maybe a bowl of salted nuts, with my dog at my feet, thinking up names that brought strong images to mind. Itching Post Path, I would say aloud just to hear the ring of it. “Charley,” I’d exclaim, “Can you imagine the energy a house cleaner will feel about a trio of houses built on Dust Bunny Lane?” Then I’d pencil in the words for the city planner to consider. The dog, who doesn’t understand her own name, let alone the presence of genius, would just look at me.
There was nothing exciting about the street names in the neighborhood where I grew up. There was a human name theme; Frederick Street, Vivian Court, Willard Road, Diane Place. It was almost like an assisted living facility for street names; you don’t run into too many folks under age 85 with names like that. If someone were to give the street names in my ‘hood a more modern spin, I would have grown up on Jayden Place.
Typical street view in Colonia Guadalupe in San Miguel de Allende. Quite different than the streets where I grew up in Paramus, New Jersey.
Another part of the town where I grew up had a US president theme. Washington, Grant, Lincoln, Jackson. Not very original. If I had to work with presidents, I would at least use the more obscure guys. How many times have you found yourself on Millard Fillmore Trail or Chester Arthur Boulevard? Not too many times, I bet.
The most poetically named street that I ever lived on was Merrimac Trail in Williamsburg, Virginia. I imagine the street was named after the Civil War era ironclad vessel commissioned in the Confederate Navy, but with towering trees lining both sides of the pavement silently suffocating under the relentlessly invasive kudzu, the street was more evocative of a southern belle humming hot summer lullabies. It was how I envisioned the South until I knew better.
San Miguel de Allende has some good street names. A few months ago I did a blog post about streets named after important dates in Mexican history. Most of the dates related to battles that the Mexicans lost trying to prevent invasions by the US, French, and Spanish. Mexico loves its negative history.
There are more creative street names as well. One street is named Indio Triste, which translates to sad Indian. Can you imagine the protest groups that would form in the US around a street named Sad Apache? Another street in San Miguel is named Aguacates, which means avocado. Not Aguacates Road or Aguacates Street. Just Aguacates. Avocado.
In the neighborhood where we currently live, Guadalupe, most of the streets are named after people. Being a curious sort, I used a search engine that I found on the internet called Google to find out who these people are.
Alfonso Esparza Oteo was a Mexican composer who hit the big time in the 1920’s with his popular Foxtrot dance rhythms. He is commemorated in San Miguel with a potholed and dusty street where people often discard empty plastic bags, pieces of food they don’t want to eat, and cigarette butts. In a rainstorm, the street fills like a lake and you have to go the next street over to keep your feet dry.
Jaime Nuno was a composer of Spanish heritage who won a contest to put music to the lyrics of Mexican poet Francisco Bocanegra for a song that became the Mexican National Anthem. One stanza of that uplifting melody goes:
War, war! The national banners
in the waves of blood soak.
War, war! in the mountain, in the valley
the horrendous cannons thunder.
Mexicans revel in their country’s long and tortured history and hearing this song will often bring a tear to the listener’s eye. Home of the brave, indeed.
Another guy remembered in a street name, Margarito Ledezma, was also a poet. He wrote a poem about blowing your nose into a rag, putting the rag in your pocket, and then wiping your face with the rag later in the day. He also wrote the following stanza of verse for a poem he called “Why Do You Cover Yourself?”
Many of the buildings in Guadalupe are painted with colorful murals, like this one on Calle Margarito Ledezma, and the one in the background on Julian Carrillo.
People understand each other by speaking
and even if you say you don’t love me,
I have to keep fighting,
because that’s the way women are.
I know Tata Nacho as the street where my gym is located. But the affectionately nicknamed Tata Nacho, who was known to God as Ignacio Esperon, was a Mexican composer instrumental in defending copyright laws in favor of musicians.
Juan de Dios Peza was a poet, writer, and politician dedicated to individuals’ rights over state intervention. In other words, he was big on liberalism. I wonder how he would feel about one of the most corrupt governments in the hemisphere - one which everyone accepts will take from the poor and give to the rich - putting his name on a street sign.
Guty Cardenas, where my dog often craps, was a singer-songwriter killed at the age of 27 by a stray bullet. Purportedly, his death had nothing to do with his status as a founder of the YucaTeca style of music.
Cri Cri is named in honor of Francisco Gabilondo Soler, the Mexican Weird Al Yankovic. Cri Cri (which translates as “The Little Singing Cricket”) performed humorous children’s songs such as “The Cowboy Mouse”, “The Trumpeter Mosquitoes”, and “The Ugly Doll”. Awww.
The Virgin of Guadalupe in tile on the wall of this building in Colonia Guadalupe.
Maria Felix and Rosa Maria were both actresses. Rosa Maria is still alive and making telenovelas, which I understand are a great way to learn trashy, conversational Spanish. Ms. Felix, who was quite beautiful, unfortunately died in 2002. One of her films is titled “The Kneeling Goddess.” I don’t know what it’s about, but with a name like that, I’m going to put it on my watch list.
Felix was married to Agustin Lara, who performed a popular song titled “Farolito”, and there is a street named after that song. There are also streets named after the songs “Cielito Lindo” (Beautiful Sky”) and “Indio Cancione” (Indian Song.)
Julian Carrillo and Mario Talavera, the two men that stand at opposite ends of the street where my kids go to school, were both musicians and composers. Carrillo was the youngest of 19 children. Not surprisingly, the family had money issues and Carrillo didn’t have much formal education, but he was so passionate about music that he invented a theory of microtonal music. Makes me think I should find a better way to spend my Sunday afternoons than sitting on the couch watching football.
Gil’s Store, on Calle Julian Carrillo is our favorite grocery. Walking distance to our home and with plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables at good prices.
It’s interesting that the streets in the neighborhood are named after artists and their art, because the neighborhood is known as the artsy neighborhood, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s known as the artsy ‘hood, I thought, mostly because many houses have their outside walls painted with murals, not necessarily because artsy people live here. But now I see that artsy people do live here. On each and every street.
Then there is this street where I walk the dog most afternoons. It’s paved with discarded construction materials and climbs through a wasteland of crushed bottles, discarded chicken bones, used toilet paper and napkins, and lots of other things you don’t expect to see on a nature walk. I call the path Dry Gulch Trail. Pretty catchy, right?
Dry Gulch Trail in San Miguel de Allende. You won’t find it on any map.