We live on a long, straight-run residential street, with the option to exit at either end to access the outside world. Close by, a cluster of our neighbors live on a short, stubby lane, where you won’t get very far before having to turn around and go back the way you came. A sign posted at their street’s entrance declares, “Not A Through Street”. It’s what the French – and we Americans – call a cul-de-sac.
In a rather desperate effort to come up with something Halloween-related this week, I landed weakly on “dead-end streets”. Of course, these tiny avenues are often very much alive. Cul-de-sac’s host a quaint gathering of houses, with a few on the straight run and even fewer around the end circle. The setup allows these neighbors to get to know each other easier. And with so little traffic, the end circle encourages kids to do what their parents normally nix: play in the street.
But maybe I shouldn’t paint/assume such a rosy picture (especially with Halloween right around the corner). What if your neighbor living right next door on that little end circle is someone you’d sooner see in a horror movie? Or what if the statistics are true: even more people are struck by cars on a cul-de-sac because of the assumed safety of a quiet street? Finally, consider the double-hyphenated phrase staring you right in the face. Cul-de-sac – French translation – “bottom of bag”. Suddenly your house feels like one of those throwaway candies you find deep down in your trick-or-treat sack.
I didn’t know “cul-de-sac” had such a negative connotation. I found it rather quaint because it’s double-hyphenated (and French). Curious, I went in search of other double-hyphenated words to see if I could find something more positive. Know-it-all. Word-of-mouth (which is often gossip). Son-in-law. Okay, that last one has potential. I mean, he’s only been married to my daughter for year now, so…
Here’s a really nasty double-hyphenated for you. Fer-de-lance. It means “head of spear”, which isn’t so nasty until you realize it’s the name of a snake; an extremely poisonous viper who lives in the tropics. The fer-de-lance was the killer (literally) in a 1974 movie by the same name. A movie I never should’ve watched at the fairly innocent age of twelve. Fer-De-Lance was the original Snakes on a Plane, only the plane was a submarine carrying a crate full of deadly creepy-crawlies. How’s that for Halloween-scary?
Like Fer-De-Lance, Cul-De-Sac was also a movie (1966), about “a hermit living with his wife in a large dank castle on an island… terrorized by two escaped prisoners.” Not exactly a romantic comedy, and no explanation of the film’s title, other than maybe this couple finding themselves at their ultimate dead-end.
Let’s circle back to the suburban version of the cul-de-sac (please!) Two addresses ago we actually lived on one. There were two houses on each side of the straight-run and four houses on the end-circle. We lived on the circle. Were we tight with our neighbors? No! Each of our driveways were long and steep so our houses were actually pretty far apart. I still remember how we’d greet our neighbors faithfully only one day out of the year. What day? Halloween, when we’d accompany our kids to their front doors.
We need to end this more-Halloween-than-I thought post on a positive note, so I don’t have you thinking about poisonous snakes and escaped prisoners. Cul-de-Sac is a locale on the beautiful Caribbean island of Saint Martin. It was also the name of a 1990s alternative rock band. And Cul-de-Sac was the title of “a light-hearted comic strip centered around a four-year-old and her suburban life experiences.” Okay, now we’re talking.
Some advice before I close. If you live on a cul-de-sac, I suggest you double-stock the candy this Halloween. After all, trick-or-treaters who make it to your dead-end street may find themselves going round and round the end circle without realizing what they’re doing. Keep an eye out for repeat customers.
Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.
Life In A Word 