If, as I read in one of Rusty D'Arconte's recent columns, the word "pescatarian" has been coined to describe "a vegetarian who eats fish":

Were my children "seminarians" back in the days when they would eat no more than half their vegetables?

Is a meat lover who requires that his steak be cut into equal-sized pieces a "sectarian."

Conversely, if you eat an orange or tangerine without dividing it into pieces are you a "non-sectarian?"

If you had to eat your words after greeting someone, would you be a "salutatarian?" Is someone who prefers pasta above all else a "spaghetti-tarian?"

And is my daughter, who has grown up to eat all her vegetables, right to describe my diet - high in cholesterol, sugar and salt - as "cemetarian?"

What, pray tell, kind of "arian" are you?

Memory jogging

When I saw Monday's Page 3 picture and story on double dutch jump rope jumping - it's been designated a varsity sport in New York City high schools - my first thought was, hey, we used to do that.

But to be accurate, I should have thought "they" used to do that.

Oh, I jumped rope a time or two. Played a few games of jacks, as well. Tried my hand at a bouncing ball game, too - can't remember the name of it, but you bounced a rubber ball, sang some kind of a jingle and periodically swung your leg over the ball on every third bounce or so.

These were all, in effect, girls' games. But there were times in my childhood when I was the only boy out to play on our block of Falmouth Street. At such times, the choices were: (a) play girls' games, or (b) don't play at all.

I think the girls liked it when I played. It meant that I wouldn't be sitting on the sidelines waiting to think of something sassy to say, or waiting to throw a rock or looking for some other way to spoil their fun. It also justified their feelings of superiority over the male of the species.

For the fact is, I never mastered the art of "jumping in." With a single rope, I could just stand next to the rope, wait for a signal and jump just in time for the swung rope to go under me. With the two ropes involved in Double Dutch, this did not work. So I watched. And I think I sang along. This was part of the jump rope fun - chanting out a rhythmic ditty. There were dozens of them, I'm sure. Fifty-five years later, I can only remember: "Mabel, Mabel, set the table.

Don't forget the salt and PEPPER."

Singsongs and counting rhymes were the music of the street, when school was out, anyway. There were jingles for jumping rope, for bouncing ball games and, if memory serves, even some for jacks.

There were jingles whose purpose was teasing - "Bobby and Susie up in a tree, K_I_S_S_I_N_G," for one, and "Richie, Richie, two by four, couldn't fit through the bathroom door," for another - and counting rhymes to decide who would be "it" in tag or other games.

"One potato, two potatoes, three potatoes, four...."

Or "Eeny, meanie, minie moe, catch a tiger by the toe," only we didn't say tiger in those days.

These are more sophisticated times. As much as we'd like to see Double Dutch make its way into the Attleboro area as a competitive sport, we don't suspect it could compete with lacrosse. The equipment costs - all you need is a couple of lengths of clothes line -are far too low to appeal to the lacrosse and hockey generation.

But I'm hoping someone out there remembers those simple old games and can provide a choose-up rhyme or a jumprope song for an old man who appears to have lost his jingles.

C's without reservation

Of course we knew the Boston Celtics' winning of their 17th NBA championship on June 17 was impressive, and that the team's glory is widespread. But just how widespread was underlined in a recent note from former South Attleboro resident Don Leedham.

Leedham, who was a Sun Chronicle photographer many moons ago, has been living in Colorado of late and working in the video field. He happened to be wearing a Celtics championship T-shirt while visiting a Sundance ceremony at the Pine Ridge Lakota Sioux Reservation in South Dakota.

If you've seen the movie "A Man Called Horse," you've got an idea of what the Sundance ceremony involves - though not a terribly accurate one, some observers say. In any event, participants have their chest skin pierced with sticks, which are tied to cords from which they dance circularly for the duration of the ritual.

Having completed the dance, the first thing on the mind of one of the participants, with blood still smeared on his chest: "Hey, can I have that shirt... I love Paul Pierce."

MARK FLANAGAN is Opinion Page editor of The Sun Chronicle. He can be reached at 5082360335. The items in this column were previously posted at his blog, which can be found at thesunchronicle.com. Comments are welcome.