When I read that Florida's legislature had voted to rename Palm Beach International Airport to "Donald J. Trump International Airport," it was not high on my list of things to be upset about. (Ditto the change from "Gulf of Mexico" to "Gulf of America." Around here it's simply called "The Gulf," anyway.)
But I'm not fond of naming things—airports, roads, college buildings—after people, especially living people. And I'm especially annoyed when good, solid workhorse names that have served for decades get replaced, benefitting no one but those who are paid to change all the signs. I remember when Idlewild Airport became JFK, and when Washington National acquired Ronald Reagan's name. When Central Florida's Bee Line Expressway to the coast became "Beach Line," I knew the authorities had more power than sense, as if tourists were too stupid to find their way eastward otherwise. (Even if they are, Google Maps makes up for a multitude of defects.)
Palm Beach County is both wealthy and liberal, and no doubt many of its citizens will cringe at President Trump's name on their airport. I feel their pain. We frequently travel up I-95 from Florida to Connecticut, and our favorite route crosses the Hudson River over the Tappan Zee Bridge. That is, the bridge that was subsequently renamed for former New York governor Mario Cuomo. I remember him all too well as governor, and cringe every time I see the renamed bridge signs.
But the bridge still gets me across the Hudson, and whether our grandson flies into Palm Beach or Donald J. Trump Airport, it won't affect my prayers for his safe landing.
