Last week I went to the dermatologist, Dr. Gross, who is anything but. I find him a kind and adorable man who not only makes me look better, he always makes me feel better. I mention his name, though, because was it being Gross that caused him to go into a field that is thought of as, well, kinda gross?
This name thing is just out of hand. Consider the man with the big truck who comes to take away the large animals who die in my neighnborhood. It’s pretty darn hard to dig a hole big enough for a horse or even a large pig. When one of our loved ones in the barnyard die, we will call on him to come and collect the remains and then do something, what, we do not know, with them. His name is Mr. Killgore. Really. Killgore, that’s his name. Obviously the name came first, but did it influence him in this funeral direction?
What about Lorenna Bobbitt, who cut short the member of her philandering husband, as well as his philandering? What about Representative Gary Weiner, who showed his to thousands over text? Having that name did he just feel he had something to prove? What about the urologist named Dr. Peters? Could he have possibly become a gynecologist?
Some names are just bad and folks have to enter a profession that can handle it. In Dekalb county, where the Goose and I grew up, there was a law enforcement official by the name of Dick Hand. Surely he needed some power to overcome that name. What about Dick Trickle? He’s been racing away from that handle for years, but hooray for the other race car driver so perfectly named Scott Speed.
I was very ill when my kids were little and ended up at an infectious disease doctor. He was a super nice man who finally figured out what was wrong with me, but he had the incredible name of Dr. Dickensheets. Take from that what you will.
The director of the no-kill shelter that was recently fired for, sadly, killing dogs? Lowanda Kilby. Uh-huh. Coincidence? I think not. And the devastating story of the pastor that was recently hit and killed on his bike? Pastor Pray.
Guess the name of the man who invented the inversion board that decompresses one’s spine that you see sold on TV. It’s Mr. Teeter. A rowing coach at a high school I’ve heard of called Mr. Rosewell, is named even more aptly than my librarian at my elementary school, Mrs. Lovejoy. It is most likely only fitting for me as no child ever loved the library more than I.
I love the whole name thing. I know there are so many more that I’ve forgotten. I see hear one almost every day that just makes me shake my head.
I once had a friend who believed that eternal cosmic writers have just gotten bored with their jobs and are putting little treats like these into our lives just to see if we notice.
Oh, I notice and I wholeheartedly approve!