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My teenage nickname was Opal. Opal is a fascinating semi-crystalline mineral and I am proud of that nickname.
My nickname was Opal.
When I grew up, there was this boy next-door. Robbie. As we were living on a relatively pristine stretch of a long road
between two towns, next-door was one hundred, two hundred meters down the road. The landscape was hilly and the road
went uphill, and his house was a little bit downhill from ours.
The highest hill of the region was nearby and the neighborhood was named after it. The hill of the witches.
It was surrounded by
heath and woodland and some swamps with, it was rumored, quicksand though in all the years that I roamed the moors (with
a black-and-white dog also called Robbie!), I
never ran into real quicksand. Lots of pines and oaks and heather.
And lots of flint and white very pure quartz sand (Miocene),
characteristic for the geological formation also bearing the hill's name (see bottom of this page).
It is possible that the hill's name was derived from the word "Hessian" referring to a particular region in Germany.
The story goes that the hill has many Romans buried in it, but they have yet to find a single one of those, let alone a
pair or more, or even a toe or a helmet. The town in which I grew up - Heerlen - was called Coriovallum by the Romans;
these days, you can visit the remnants of a Roman bathhouse (which was still covered with quartz
sand when I grew up as there was no funding for it yet) and look at many Roman objects, such as pottery.
Anyway, Robbie and I had a strange relationship. I wasn't allowed to play at his house as I had an overprotective mother
who didn't allow me to go swimming with the other kids in school either. She cut my hair short and kept me looking
like a boy until I protested when I was 10 or 11 and finally got to grow my hair a bit longer.
The only birthday party I remember having been
permitted to attend was that of a girl who was about to move to another town with her family. Until a house was built
between Robbie's and ours, that is, and I disobeyed and started talking to the new kids. Those people had horses!
Robbie and I had our battles. I remember the time when we pretended to be mom and dad at my house,
playing house, preparing
a meal. A real one. It involved fried potatoes and carrots and we ended up fighting over the carrots. My mom had taught me
to discard the green part of the carrots - it was supposed to be poisonous, even - and Robbie was convinced that was
the healthiest part of the carrot.
I don't mean the foliage, but the green part of the actual carrot. Robbie left and went home, fuming.
Robbie and I led our own groups, too. We played cowboys and indians, and knights, and robbers,
and what not. Robbie was
in charge of the boys and I was in charge of the girls. My headquarters were a little volcano-shaped mound left behind
by a bulldozer and his were a bunch of shrubs. The problem with the little hill, which looked more glamorous than the shrubs,
was that you were very visible on it (even though it had a small depression at the center, like a crater).
It provided no shelter against rain and it was impossible to sneak in or out without being seen.
The shrubs had
their advantages. You could easily add branches and other materials to it, and sneak in and out unseen.
So I approached Robbie and suggested we trade headquarters. To my surprise (which is still present today!), Robbie agreed.
In some ways, I must have been one of the boys, to the boys. They chased other girls, not me. I still remember when
one of them once suddenly
punched me in the stomach, really hard. To see if I could take it? I felt sick, tried hard not to show it and didn't utter
a sound. I was a runner and probably ran faster than any of them and I also cycled faster than all or most. I devised all
sorts of code, too (which the damn girls tended to be reluctant to use!). I mean, what is the point of passing secret
notes - not seldomly thrown to each other as paper wads - if anyone who intercepts them can read them? (LOL)
Anyway, when Robbie and I got older, all this stuff started fading more and more. We were in different high schools,
although we had also been in different grade schools, as there were separate schools for boys and for girls in those days.
Then I developed a crush on a guy called Paul who did go to the same school (sort of). I used to throw a lot
of paper wads at him (and others) and I also once plucked a woollen scarf out of his neck and took off with it and hid it.
Man, was he mad! Furious!
I had cleverly managed to become acquainted with his family by simply picking up the phone and calling the family one
Sunday morning to enquire after the youngest who was in hospital. (Looking back now, I marvel, for various reasons.)
So I visited quite often and usually hung out with
Paul's younger siblings. Paul's parents apparently detected my crush without me having a clue. (Ugh! I cringe just
to think back to those
overwhelming feelings of teenage confusion and insecurity that went with the crush! I will never understand people who
want to be 16 again. Why would anyone?)
One day, when
I was visiting and we were talking about a week of festivities at school and that evening's play, Paul's mom suddenly
knocked the wind out of me when she announced: "Oh, good, you and Paul can cycle to the play together, then."
And that was that.
Now I am finally getting to the point of this story. (I know you've wondered.) On the way to the play, Paul told me that
in grade school, Robbie had nicknamed me Opal (Opaal, in Dutch)
and the name was used so much that he (Paul) initially thought it was my
last name! I had no idea! I didn't even know of Paul's existence when I was still in grade school, let alone that I had the
nickname Opal.
Yes, Paul did live in the same neighborhood. Same road actually, but way downhill.
To this day, I still feel honored by that nickname. I love opal! I think it is a very special mineral
(SiO2.nH2O). It is not
really amorphous as there is some order to the structure,
but it is not a crystal lattice either (it's called semi-crystalline). Opal contains
water, which makes it vulnerable to dehydration.
But what I really like about it is that it's beauty is hidden, not loud and "in your face".
And it is ever-changing!
Hold it this way, and all you may see is a white surface. Tilt it slightly and green sparks will flash, or blue
ones and purple ones, or pink ones.
Rotate it a little bit further or around a different axis, and a new landscape of sparkles will
appear. It's subtle, and it's not cheap. (In fact, thin slivers of precious opal are often glued onto cheaper material to
make opal jewellery more affordable.)
Most
opal comes from Australia,
and there are several color varieties. I no longer have any pieces of opal (I think
I sold some and gave some to one of my two nieces), so I can't show you any photographs. But no photograph can do
justice to opal, so that may be a good thing.
I still don't know where it came from, that nickname. Opal.
Some time after that school play - a few years, I think - I asked
Robbie about it. He blushed and said that he had no idea what I was talking about. That was the only time I have
ever seen Robbie blush. Sadly, I have no idea what became of him in the roughly thirty years since I last saw him.
P.S.
For more information about the local geology, see the following:
If you are interested in what Romans and geology can have to do with each other, check out this page
on geoforensics.
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The highest hill of the region was nearby and the neighborhood was named after it. The hill of the witches.
It was surrounded by
heath and woodland and some swamps with, it was rumored, quicksand though in all the years that I roamed the moors (with
a black-and-white dog also called Robbie!), I
never ran into real quicksand. Lots of pines and oaks and heather.
Anyway, Robbie and I had a strange relationship. I wasn't allowed to play at his house as I had an overprotective mother
who didn't allow me to go swimming with the other kids in school either. She cut my hair short and kept me looking
like a boy until I protested when I was 10 or 11 and finally got to grow my hair a bit longer.
The only birthday party I remember having been
permitted to attend was that of a girl who was about to move to another town with her family. Until a house was built
between Robbie's and ours, that is, and I disobeyed and started talking to the new kids. Those people had horses!
The shrubs had
their advantages. You could easily add branches and other materials to it, and sneak in and out unseen.
So I approached Robbie and suggested we trade headquarters. To my surprise (which is still present today!), Robbie agreed.
Now I am finally getting to the point of this story. (I know you've wondered.) On the way to the play, Paul told me that
in grade school, Robbie had nicknamed me Opal (Opaal, in Dutch)
and the name was used so much that he (Paul) initially thought it was my
last name! I had no idea! I didn't even know of Paul's existence when I was still in grade school, let alone that I had the
nickname Opal.
I still don't know where it came from, that nickname. Opal.
Some time after that school play - a few years, I think - I asked
Robbie about it. He blushed and said that he had no idea what I was talking about. That was the only time I have
ever seen Robbie blush. Sadly, I have no idea what became of him in the roughly thirty years since I last saw him.
