February 2012 home page

Rich Simons | 11th Street

Q: Last fall I noted a plethora of signs about town proclaiming something about “Olde Del Mar.” Can you tell me please, just when did Del Mar become “Olde”?
– d.k.

It is fair to conjecture that Del Mar became “Olde” at precisely the time that Newe Del Mar was born, which was when the purveyors of the Sodom and Gomorrah known as “North City West” (the City in question being San Diego) decided to cache in (pun intended) on our good name and reputation. They figured thereby to get more loot for their listings, more dollars for their development, etc.
To this day there is no realtor worth his commission who will admit that the bungalow he or she is trying to sell you up in the Heights is NOT in Del Mar. (“C’mon. Whaddaya want? Your address is gonna read ‘Del Mar 92014’; your kids are gonna attend “Del Mar Union School District.”)

It is said that there is more than one would-be pol who “bit and bought” precisely so he could run for Del Mar City Council, only to be told “Sorry, Charlie” (not his real name) when he applied at City Hall.

My wife likes to drop in on their Open Houses up there and tweak the seller’s noses on this item. Hah! You can pull out their fingernails before they will admit they are really in the City of San Diego. She has obtained no confessions thus far but she does have a nice collection of fingernails.

Of course anyone with half an eye can see the difference between the two cities. San Diego has no sense of “village.” Sheesh. They screwed the place up with sidewalks and street lamps. I suspect they have also been undergrounding their utilities.

What about the gratuitous “e” in “Olde?,” you ask. That is clearly a tip of the hat to Chaucer. That would be Fred Chaucer, of course, a notoriously bad speller who used to live up on Rimini. He once wrote a cousin that his wyfe had taken a bathe, an item that he somehow thought newsworthy. I guess you had to know her.

Q: What do you make of that humoungus red barn that has sprouted down at the fairgrounds? – g.m.
I can do no better than the unknown commuter who, coming upon the twin black stallions rampant on the eastern facade, supposed that it must be a Ferrari dealership.



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