Rename the Gulf of Mexico? Yes, just for starters

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Newly inaugurated President Donald Trump is pushing forward on his plan to rename the Gulf of Mexico. Good for him, mostly.

Trump’s wrong about what he wants to rename it, and he doesn’t go far enough.

He’s already referring to that big body of water to the south of us as the “Gulf of America.”

The president’s historical illiteracy is showing.

Our country was named for Amerigo Vespucci, the Italian explorer who first figured out that our current continent of residence was not part of Asia. The honor was bestowed by royal decree of the king of Spain.

America, like Mexico, is a name of Hispanic origin.

We are an English-speaking country.

If we’re going to rename that gulf, Gulf of America won’t do. We need — owe ourselves — an unmistakably English name. Perhaps the Gulf of Johnson or the Gulf of Thatcher. We could have a special election and vote on it.

When that’s settled, we can get on with the larger agenda. As noted, Trump’s plans don’t go far enough.

Our Anglo-Saxon country — maybe we should rename it England, tell those has-been Brits to find something new — is riddled with holdover names from earlier Hispanic occupation: San Francisco, Las Vegas, El Paso.

How much better if they were Smithfield, Leicester and Evans.

And the states? Ai-yi-yi!

We’ve got California, Arizona, Ohio and more.

Make ’em Carruthers, Attlee and Oakes.

And New Mexico? New anything but Mexico! New Marlboro. New Mason. New McKinley.

And speaking of McKinley, President Trump has re-renamed that mountain in Alaska “McKinley,” reversing a 2015 change to what Native peoples originally called it: Denali.

Right on!

Far Right on!

We need to ditch all those Native leftovers that our Manifest Destiny rendered obsolete a century ago at least. Make Tuskegee Tennyson, Minnehaha McIntosh, Kansas Knox and Massachusetts Matthews.

Apart from establishing who were really are, implementing these changes will be a huge job creator.

Think of all the signs to be changed, all the books, songs and movies to be renovated and reissued. Somebody’s got to do the work.

Mark Twain’s “Life on the Middlebrook."

“My Own Private Ipswich.”

“Stars Fell on Alcott.”

We’ll have full employment, new pride, homogeneity, unity.

Make (to be decided) Great Again.

Noel Holston was the Star Tribune’s TV/radio critic from 1986 through 2001. He’s the author of two memoirs, “Life After Deaf” and “As I Die Laughing.” His features and commentary appear regularly on Substack as The Grassy Noel.