What a week to leave town, spend my days in a Viking camp, and (presumably) get my news mostly second-hand!

Next year, when I go to Høstfest in Minot, I expect I’ll share the roads with thousands of refugee Minnesotans, all their earthly possessions jammed into and strapped onto the tops of their Priuses. They’ll abandon this state once the high taxes and the economic downturn drive what’s left of the jobs out, and head west to North Dakota, where a favorable industrial environment will spark a sudden boom. Thugs will be stationed at the border to keep the “Minnies” out.

I’ll have a legitimate entry authorization from the Høstfest Committee, of course. Maybe I’ll never come back, though.

I commented, on Phil’s post below about historical naming practices in Europe, on a passage I recalled from an old book I own. I’ve found the passage now. It’s from Our Roving Bible by Lawrence E. Nelson, published by Abingdon-Cokesbury in 1945, long out of print. It’s a book on the influence of the Bible on English-speaking culture. My mother gave me her copy sometime in the mid-60s. I have no idea how she came to acquire it in the first place. Looking at it now, I’m amazed that I read it in high school, since I’m pretty sure I didn’t understand ¾ of it.

But I always remembered the passage about Puritan names. It goes like this:

“…There rose and fell.. the most grotesque fashion of personal names that England ever knew. “At the Reformation such a locust swarm of new names burst upon the land that we may well style it the Hebrew Invasion.” (Bardsley, Curiosities of the Puritan Nomenclature.) …The Puritan temper was attuned to the Old Testament sternness. Parents ruthlessly affixed to their helpless offspring such names as Abimelech, Habakkuk, Hezekiah, Melchizedek, Pelatiah, Shadrach, Zebulon, and Zerubbabel.

“Cromwell,” said Cleveland, “hath beat up his drums clean through the Old Testament, and you may know the genealogy of our Saviour by the names of his regiment. The muster master hath no other list than the first chapter of Saint Matthew.” As controversies increased even these became too tame. Zealots flaunted their faith in the names of their children. Be-Stedfast Elyarde, Faint-not Dighurst, Fear-not Rhodes, Flie-fornication Andrews, Glory-be-to-God Penniman, Good-gift Gynnings, Hew-Agag-in-pieces Robinson lived, died, and were ceremoniously buried. Job-raked-out-of-the-ashes, found deserted on the ash pile in the lane leading to Sir John Spencer’s back gate, mercifully died the day after baptism, but Stand-fast-on-high Stringer, Swear-not-at-all Ireton, and Obadiah-bind-their-kings-in-chains-and-their-nobles-in-irons Needham all lived. The Barebone family, which gave name to a notable session of Parliament, included Praise-God Barebone, Jesus-Christ-came-into-the-world-to-save Barebone, and If-Christ-had-not-died-for-thee-thou-hadst-been-damned Barebone, the last of whom was familiarly known as Dr. Damned Barebone.

Tomorrow, I drive ten hours. I may live-blog the festival, at least now and then. If not, I’ll talk to you again in about a week. If I faint not upon the way.