Whitworth’s new moniker happy news

The announcement that Whitworth College will be renaming itself Whitworth University is happy news for the Clarks.

We will soon be able to proudly say that our son, Ben, dropped out of a university to go play rock ‘n’ roll in Seattle. That carries so much more prestige than quitting a mere college.

The message from the school’s board of directors is clear: Some words carry more panache, like putting University after Whitworth.

Oh, Shakespeare may still be technically right. A rose would smell the same by any other name.

But call a rose a fish, and I’ll by gawd guarantee you the florists will have to come up with a different symbol of love for Valentine’s Day.

So taking a cue from our Whitworthians, I have decided my own persona needs a sophistication upgrade.

Today I am not columnist Doug. Today I will use my vastly-more-superior-sounding middle name.

Collins.

I am already becoming so much more suave. Check out my new column photograph if you don’t believe me.

Like the Whitworth board, I always suspected my loutish name was holding me back. I should have dumped Doug and gone Collins years ago.

Collins implies Bentleys and breeding.

Doug says beer, bowling and bacon.

It was my old man who gave me a lowbrow first name that sounds like a guttural verb. Doug was the 38th most popular name in 1951, the year I entered the world.

A book on name meanings says Douglas actually means “from the dark swamp.”

Some might say I’ve spent a career trying to fulfill that definition.

Collins, however, comes with no baggage. It was the name of my dad’s brother, a Chicago musician who gave me my first guitar.

Consider what societal differences might separate the lives of Collins from Doug.

COLLINS: “In accepting the Pulitzer Prize for distinguished commentary, I want to thank the editors for letting me say ‘mayoral bi-jinks’ in the newspaper.”

DOUG: “Wanna see my trailer tattoo?”

COLLINS: “Waiter, bring us a bottle of Buehler cabernet. It has an excellent balance with overtones of currant and black cherry.”

DOUG: “Uh, can you biggie size them onion rings?”

The same thing applies to Whitworth.

College sounds more associated with cosmetology courses or barber chairs.

“University” brings to mind rioting Washington State students drunkenly setting dumpsters ablaze.

Oops. There are exceptions to all rules, I guess.

But outside of Pullman, anyway, universities are considered to be more about higher learning than learning to get high.

Switching to a university is also a smart economic move for Whitworth. Canny administrators will be able to jack up the private school’s already sky high tuition rates.

Alas, I know only too well what it means to miss out on a university education.

I attended Eastern when it was Eastern Washington State College. It didn’t become Eastern Washington University until 1977 – several years after I graduated.

Had Eastern been a university during my time, I would not have referred to it as “high school with ashtrays.” I would have studied harder and maybe even showed up for class.

I certainly would not have engaged in a chocolate pudding fight with a dorm buddy. As serious university students, we would have smeared each other with chocolate mousse.

So let’s all give a loud academic huzzah to Spokane’s new and snootier Whitworth University.

Of course, whether you call any school a college or a university I’ll bet one thing remains true. Half the faculty still wouldn’t be able to land a job at Wal-Mart.