Trying to make sense of hurricane naming

It was a quiet July 4. A barbecue in the mountains for just five of us - Scott, Joni, Jett, Boo and me. A chilly 48 degrees, but we had a warm trailer so didn’t have to brave the cold. A good mixture of “hands on deck.” Brats (directly from Wisconsin and delicious) and burgers with all the sauteed go-togethers, pasta salad, chips and dips, topped off with homemade cream topped with strawberries. Fun around the table; memories of Fourth of Julys of the past.

Sun came out as they were packing up to go home.  Wonderfully warm — and in the next instant, rain mixed with hail. A hasty goodbye and we piled into our vehicles and left in opposite directions to return home. Scott and I ran out of the rain about three miles from the trailer park; Joni, Jett and Boo had rain all the way to Dayton.  But it was a good day nonetheless.

I have been in an investigative mode ever since hearing about “Hurricane Barrel.”  I first heard it - far away from the TV and thought what a dumb name for a hurricane — an inanimate object.

On the 6 p.m. news, I was front and center when they talked about “Barrel.” But this time I read the caption — it was “Beryl.”

I have known three people named “Beryl.” All feminine, and the “Beryl” rhymed with “Pearl.”   No mother would name her baby “Beryl” that rhymed with “Barrel.” 

So I decided to take a survey and ask one simple question of each:  “How would you pronounce b.e.r.y.l?

I called a businesswoman, some retirees, several older senior citizens, a former mayor, some of what they call “Gen Zs,” assuring them their names would not be mentioned.  I simply spelled the word (I didn’t pronounce it); I didn’t want my survey to be “muddied up.”

With just one exception, the answer was: Beryl (and it rhymed with Pearl).

Hope Nathan doesn’t have a heart attack when I present him with a separate bill for my hours spent investigating this all-important topic.