I need to unzip my fleece a little bit and roll up the arms to talk about this. Lately, my mind has only one reoccurring thought. Gold. It’s probably because of that mobile I set up above my bed that has golden nuggets gently tied to it.
Rumplestiltskin has been giving me a lot of grief lately. Please, allow me, to tell you a tale as old as thyme.
There is a miller. He is looking to impress his community, so he starts a rumor that his pretty little daughter can weave straw into gold. Ain’t nothing but a “g” thang. The lay folk ooo and ahhh and jump up and down, just a little. Before you know it, the king kidnaps the little daughter, locks her up in a tower full of straw and says unto her “weave this shit into gold.” She starts crying. All of a sudden, this mongrel mysteriously appears in the tower. She gives him trinkets to weave all the straw into gold. He whistles while he works. But then she runs out of rings and necklaces, so in passing thought she promises this sticky son of a bitch her first born child. Bad idea.
Just like most stockholm syndrome stories go, happy endings, the girl ends up marrying the King. They neglect to have safe sex. So she gets knocked up. Guess who appears but ol’ Rumpy to claim his prize. It is unclear what he wants with this baby. But I think he wants to eat it.
Continuing, Princess freaks out, says this ain’t fair, and begs for redemption. Rumplemintz says ok, I’ll give you three days to guess my name. The princess frets and bites her thumb. At last she has a little servant go out to to the woods, where Rumpy is dancing by a fire singing a song about his name. Big mistake. Rump returns to the castle and creepily extends each finger and asks her to “say my name, say my name.” She responds correctly. Rumplestiltskin is obviously disappointed and has a fit of rage and runs away.
Revisiting this story, it is a little weird fable. I have gone over it again and again – and I think the moral of the story is to lie on job resumes. No, she couldn’t weave gold, but she got hired and wed due to her little fib on her application. Or, perhaps don’t forget someone’s name. And this is what hatched an idea in my head.
The sweetest sound is the sound of our own name. Rihanna, Rumpstiltskin, and Destiny’s Child, are all telling us to say their name. At least we know that the egocentrism is not just a problem of today. Back during the Brothers Grimm in the 1800s. Thus following, reader, please try and remember your kin folk’s names. Otherwise they could go ahead and steal your first little nugget of joy.