Pun Lovers Relish That Puget Sound

Back in 1874 a man of dull wit and a tin ear called Seattle's name "barbarous" but called Tacoma passable, "one of the few places on Puget Sound whose name does not inspire horror and disgust."

No matter his name; let his soul, if he had one, rest in peace.

What led to this outpouring is a reissue of a book by Williard Espy, (otherwise known as Wede.) A native son, born in Oysterville, Pacific County, Espy was long ago captivated by our place names.

Speaking as a fellow native, I regard it as fun to hear a visitor from New York or Baltimore struggle with such commonplace (to us) names as Semiahoo, Dosewallips, Queets and Utsalady.

We owe much to the tribes of this area.

Anyway, Wede Espy's reissue is here and it's high time.

I refer, of course, to that lovely little collection of puns entitled "Omak Me Yours Tonight," or "Ilwaco Million Miles for one of Your Smiles."

Not only is the book reissued, but Espy and his friends have also put out a tape with Espy himself narrating the wonderful story.

Using Washington place names, Espy fashions a heart-rending story of Chet:

"Chet suffered sore from Acme;

"Yet (so I'm Tolt), all day

"Upon his Fife he'd Toutle . . ."

So much for Chet's introduction.

Now step up and meet "A Lillwaup named Ann." A brief description of Annie is next:

"Olalla Palouse was Annie.

"Lor' Lummi, wasn't she, though!

"She had Asotin something.

"That should have laid Chetlo."

Any reader of romance novels can tell you where this is headed.

As you've noticed, the already punned place names have taken us across the state, from the rolling Palouse to several parts of our side of the Cascades.

A word may be in order on puns. Liking or hating puns is a personal matter, like having a taste or no taste for oysters.

I am very dumb when it comes to inventing puns, but I usually like them when (as in Willard's case) they are done skillfully by someone else.

This is not a thesis I care to pursue, but my guess is that people who like puns have a sort of spiritual, or intellectual masochism in their nature.

By listening to puns, they are enjoying a kind of self-inflicted pain.

That does not make us perverts. We just like words and the music, however strange, that can be played with words.

That is Wede Espy to a T, as in Tatoosh.

Espy, by the way, is no mere jokester. He has written 15 books and he is a serious wordsmith who likes to have fun sometimes.

Here are some of his titles: "O Though Improper, Thou Uncommon Noun," "Say It My Way," "Another Almanac of Words at Play," "The Garden of Eloquence: A Rhetorical Bestiary," "Have a Word With Me" and "A Children's Almanac of Words at Play."

One of Espy's more recent books was a massive rhyming dictionary, "Words to Rhyme With," which received high praise from The New York Times.

Espy, now in his 80s, lives in New York but spends his summers in Oysterville.

He grew up surrounded by Willapa oysters. He never liked them. Some people are just that way.

Emmett Watson's column appears Sunday and Thursday in the Local section of The Times.