NAMING NAMES

I have a car named "Landy," a car named "Bluey," and a car named "Sporty." The Land Rover, the Hyundai, and the Miata, respectively, were named instantly, as were my dogs, Sammy and Petey, my daughter, Sara, and my wife, Hon. There was no hysteria over choosing special, fancy names: no pretentious, precious solipsisms, no books of a million names to anoint your child. Indeed, deeds and misdeeds are all I believe distinguishes oneself -- not labels.

People give their kids all kinds of ridiculous names now. Children come with names like "Appomattox" or "Chutney." One pre-school class in town had the following first names: Cierra, Makynzi, Quinlynn, Creighton, Ruger, Flower, Dacoda, Irelynd, Oleo, Brooklynn, Blaze, Kryslyn, Laken, Cinsere, Solace, Destiny, McKaty, Quillon, Griffen, Bane, Tiara Rose, and Dusk (he has a sister named Dawn).

Rounding out the class, there are the Breeze twins. The two little breezes are known collectively and individually as "Breeze." Don't you want to just smack that parent?

Imagine the teacher who has to remember these ridiculous names, let alone spell them? And the little brats get indignant when you mispronounce their names. I'm sorry but any parent who names his kid "Oleo" needs to go to jail.

I have a terrible problem with forgetting names. If your name is Bob, I have at least a fighting change of remembering your moniker. "Bob" I can remember forwards and backwards. But call yourself Lattifa, and I'll be calling you "Hey You," for the rest of your life. I have a friend named Bud, which is a little esoteric, but I can remember it because he is my buddy. His wife, Pat, I can remember because I always -- bad example.

When my kid was born, the doctor said, "It's a Girl!" and I thought that a fine name. But Hon felt otherwise. She wanted her to be a Rachel, or a Rebecca -- but I was sure that was too many different letters, so we settled on Sara. Sara is easy to remember, and when I call for her in the school nurse's office, eight girls raise their hands to go home. Any girl whose name I can't remember I call Sara, knowing I have a 1-in-4 chance of being right. No, I believe names should be simple, common and if at all possible, descriptive.

Having said this, I do believe in naming everything. While some would have you believe only animals need naming, at my house the trees, the bushes -- even the driveway has a name (Blacky). Indoors, my toaster (Toasty), my spatula (Spatch) and my TV (Aaron) all respond to their names (or the remote) and help to give my house (Boxy) a homey feeling. I can sit writing a letter by the fireplace (Loggy), go out the front door (Dorey) and drop it in the mailbox (Letterman).

I have a special hammer named Wrenchie, so-named because I wrenched my back once using it. It gets confusing sometimes when asking for it, but Wrenchie has bent over many a nail, and when it isn't hanging from my special tool belt (Tooley Galooley), it is nicely stored in the basement (Count Basey).

Hon is even worse than I am, having named each of her ten figures. I would never do anything as compulsive as that. I'm quite content group-naming my digits Lefty and Righty, and letting them fight it out as to whose turn it is for a given task.

Names are a source of great concern these days, with people getting hung up over who called whom Macaca, or Moktada. Hakuna Matata, meaning "no worries for the rest of your lives," is definitely NOT their "problem-free philosophy." Whether you're Senator Allen or a Shia Henchman, you must be careful what you call people simply named Mark Stark or Saddam Hussein. Mark Stark rhymes. Yell "Hussein" in Iraq, and half the crowd will answer, "Yes?" I like that simplicity.

Had Joseph and Mary known what people would scream every time they hit their Lefty with a Wrenchie, they'd have never named their son Jesus H. Christ! For me, names worth remembering are names that are memorable. That's why I'm voting for the Democrat, Iraq Hussein Osama, in '08.