There is a neighborhood here in Jacksonville where all the streets are named after nursery rhymes and children’s stories. I kid you not. Look it up. We have Mother Hubbard Drive, Bambi Lane, London Bridge Lane, Boy Blue Road, Biddy Lane, Tom Thumb Drive, Peter Pan Place, Snow White Drive, Cinderella Road, Tinkerbell Lane, Goldilocks Lane, Jack Horner Lane, Miss Muffet Lane, Bo Peep Court, Pinnochio Drive, Peter Rabbit Drive, Mopsy Lane, Flopsy Lane, and Cotton Tail Lane. I call this neighborhood “Bo Peepsville”.
Every time I drive through this part of town I think, “What the HELL were you thinking?” I can’t imagine that these street names are doing much for the property values in the area. Believe me, even if it were the perfect house with the perfect view at the perfect price, there’s no way on earth that I’m going to live on Peter Rabbit Drive. As an overweight, middle aged female, I have a hard enough time being taken seriously in some quarters as it is.
Imagine being a self-conscious high school student getting your first driver’s license and having to say “I live on 1234 Miss Muffet Lane.” Pure mortification.
Or calling 911 and saying, “Help! Come quick! I’m being attacked! I live on 2222 Flopsy Lane!”
Or you want to cook a romantic dinner for a girl you’ve been trying to impress all semester, and you tell her to meet you at your house and the address is….well, you get the picture.
I suspect the Hells Angels don’t have a house in Bo Peepsville. And maybe that’s the point. But that doesn’t stop me from being eternally grateful that I don’t live there.
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