When I was but a wee lad growing up on the mean, graveled streets of Clarkston, in the ghettos known as Independence Township, my last name was something other kids could easily make fun of.
Because we illiterates outside the city proper (which was a village back then) would rather scratch our butts, play in the woods and cornfields and had to cut acres of lawn, milk cows, and do chores all before we got ’round to our reading, writing, and ‘ciphering, monosyllabled names like ‘Rush? were easier pickin’s for rhymers and taunters to use in dastardly ways.
If I close my eyes and harken back to those thrilling days of yesteryear I can still hear the Bailey Lake Elementary playground taunts.
‘Hey Mush, Mush, Mushy!?
‘Hush Rush.?
‘Slushy Rushy nanny, nanny, poo-poo!.?
‘Schmush Rush.?
And then the girl would slug me.
(Clarkston chicks were tough back then.)
It never really bothered me. I learned to be a fast runner and elusive maneuverer. I could dodge, weave, bob and drop to my knees on a dime, sending would-be throttlers flying over top of me just as they thought they’d get their paws on me.
Those ploys bought me a few more minutes of serenity before the ruffians caught and clobbered me. More than once I remember watching the playground attendant standing over me waiving her finger while opening and closing her mouth. I don’t remember hearing her say anything. I just remember her mouth moving as fists pummeled my head into the ‘play? ground.
I do wonder what woulda? happened if the playground attendant had actually intervened and physically removed or restrained the aggressor. Maybe I’d have a better looking mug?
I also wonder, if I didn’t have such a smart-alec mouth, would I have incurred such wrath?
We moved to Clarkston whilst I was in the middle of the third grade. I remember thinking, ‘Rush? wasn’t that common of a name. And, thinking that was pretty cool. There were lots of Smiths, O’Neills, Clarks and Joneses . . . but not many Rushs. Then I looked around a little and figured out there were at least two more Rush families residing in Clarkston’s ghetto, all within about a mile radius around Walters Lake.
One family lived on Eston Road, near Clintonville; we lived on Clarkston Road on the south side of the lake and Melody Rush’s family lived on the other side, somewhere.
As I got older and more steeped in the paternal brainwashing of the Irishness of the name Rush, I began to think that was neato-keen. Kiss me I’m Irish! I learned the following:
‘Those holders of the name of definite Irish origins often have a form of the Gaelic O’Ruis translating as ‘the descendant of Ros’. This was an early personal name which itself has at least four separate meanings. To add to the confusion, in the province of Connacht, Rush was also used as a translation of the Gaelic surname O’Luachra’. Luachra in Irish means ‘to rush’, hence the modern spelling!?
Then I learned there were Scot, German and — egads — even English Rushs.
Danged-blabit Rush was just not going to be a special name — I couldn’t even lay kinship to Dr. Benjamin Rush, a signer of the Declaration of Independence.
Oh well . . . and the world turned.
Sometime after I started penning Don’t Rush Me, the column in 1986, Taylor Dayne released a record (song) called the same thing. She stole my thunder, man! Google ‘Don’t Rush Me? and she pops up, even though I was first and have written something like 1,500 columns under the DRM moniker!
It ain’t fair.
In 1988, the world turned to (I should say tuned to) a new Rush — a radio guy with Rush for a first name, and a surname of Limbaugh. My name was hijacked again.
If you Google ‘Don Rush? you will find, Taylor, Limbaugh and some other Don Rushs, before you find me. There’s a Don Rush who’s some NPR radio reporter type and a Don Rush who’s an animee cartoonist and another Don Rush who’s some sort of actor. One of them jumped faster than me and got www.DonRush.com, so I couldn’t. Rats.
Rush is a cool name now, no thanks to me. You have football teams doing Food Rushs (collecting food for the needy — way cool). You even have Team Rushs at schools who are into robotics, respect, unity, spirit and heart (techno-cool).
There are even two Rushs playing college football in this state. Marcus Rush (number 44) for the Michigan State Spartans is a tough defensive end; and Cooper Rush (awesome first name) is quarterback for my alma mater, Central Michigan University.
Both cool. Both, no relation to yours truly.
Rush, Mush, Schmush. I reckon I’m stuck with it! Once a geek, always a geek.
Comments to, Don@ShermanPublications.org.