Doubtless it was inevitable that the project of naming Vernon County's rural roads would arouse some misunderstanding and dissatisfaction.

More than one country dweller awoke to find himself living on a road with a far-fetched or incomprehensible name, or even one with troubling connotations.

Change is always disturbing. To this writer, the roadnaming came as a grim reminder of how the natural world is receding, being tamed and plotted, before the inroads of overpopulation and development. There's no such thing as "country" any more. The country dweller lives in the "global city" as surely as the denizen of the densest metropolis.

But it's something that's happening anyway. Naming the roads is merely a belated recognition of the fact, however unwelcome.

Traditionally, for example, it was unheard of for emergency personnel to carry their operations into the country. Transportation methods simply didn't allow it. Now that they do so as a matter of course, they must have the means to find their way about.

Vernon County, perhaps typically, was one of the last counties in its area to adopt a road-identifying system. Neighboring counties have had systems in place for some time.

When the idea first came up, it was the hope of the historically minded, as well as many residents, that customary names or names with historical significance could be used. Some professionals, on the other hand, wanted a stark, pragmatic, all numbers system.

It's often the nature of compromises to satisfy nobody, and at first that seemed to be the case with the compromise adopted by the Vernon County commission, whereby eastwest roads have names while northsouth roads are numbered, west to east.

Unfortunately, in the eyes of the advocates of names, the named roads had to be in alphabetical order, from north to south. This meant that existing customary names (e.g. Roundhouse Road) are lost, and historical names aren't relevant to their location. Lady Road, for example, is a long, long way from Lady Branch and the pioneer Lady brothers' stamping ground. (The seemingly ideal alternative, Lake Road, was rejected as being too general.) County commissioners and members of the historical society, whom they had consulted, seem to have independently come up with the idea of getting out a booklet to explain the source and significance of some of the names.

The present writer, to whom fell the task of putting the booklet together, at first couldn't muster much enthusiasm. One afflicted with perfectionism finds it hard to be enthusiastic about a project already characterized by compromises and disappointments.

But the project took on an independent existence, and soon inspired an enthusiasm of its own. After all, perfection just isn't to be had here below. If the naming system as adopted might have been better, one must remember, it might also have been worse! The booklet that's been put together (and by extension the naming system itself) adds up to a serendipitous assemblage of little historical vignettes, teaching worthwhile, sometimes fascinating snippets of information about local people and events.

There are reminders, for instance, of some well-known figures, such as Cecil D. Ball and General Joseph Bailey, and some of lesser-known people, such as F. J. Amos and Avery Howard, two humble victims of Civil War violence who certainly deserve to be remembered. These four examples are taken from only the booklet's first couple of pages.

There's an explanation of Moles Road, a name that's mystified and in some cases upset a few people. It's named, not after the familiar creatures, as it turns out, but after Glenn Moles, the landowner responsible for developing Indian Springs, west of Schell City.

A number of men of pivotal importance in county history, after being neglected for years, are memorialized at last. Dr. J.N.B. Dodson, for one, put through the enabling bill that brought Vernon County into existence. Sen. William Joel Stone, well-known though he is, has never had his name affixed to any landmark. The same is true of Sidney A. Weltmer. Capt. William Waldo had a pioneer store, and piloted the first steamboat up the Osage River.

Blair Road might be called "overdetermined," memorializing as it does at least three men. Francis P. Blair (after whom Blair School was named) was a pro-Union leader in St. Louis and a Federal general in the Civil War. Col. Charles W. Blair commanded the District of the Frontier, with headquarters at Fort Scott, having jurisdiction over Vernon County. James T. Blair, a relative of Nevada's Ewing family, was a 20th-century governor of Missouri.

The average person might pick up some facts he probably wouldn't otherwise learn. That yet another governor, John M. Dalton, had Vernon County connections, and his brother Sidney P. Dalton was chief justice of the Missouri Supreme Court. That William Earp, sometime owner of the Nevada Daily Mail, was a cousin of famed lawman Wyatt Earp.

In some places, due to exigencies of the alphabetical system, surnames couldn't be used, so given names were resorted to: Avery, Jesse, Noah, Elias, Ezekiel, etc. It might be treated as a game, seeing who can guess just what figure in local history is being familiarly referred to. And it's a reminder that first names actually are first in time. In the beginning people bore only their given names. As has been said, "Smith wasn't called John to distinguish him from other Smiths. Rather John was called Smith to distinguish him from other Johns." Aside from people, other roads are named for places: Panama, Kaw Rapids, Timber Hill.

Then there's the Grange (the French word for "barn"), the historic farmers' organization still represented by the Blue Mound Grange in Vernon County. And did you know that the name of the Ozarks probably derives from the French Aux Arcs, "upon the Arkansas (River)," which was the way mail was addressed to French settlers in the Arkansas country? The booklet, whimsically titled A Road by Any Other Name, is available from the Bushwhacker Museum and at other locations, for $3, plus $ 1 shipping if mailed.