Frankly, My Dear . . .
You never really know how many people you do not like or wish to forget until you try to come up with a name for a baby. Old flames are immediately eliminated even if they had really cool names like Dash or Blaire. You find a name you adore but when you run it by your spouse, he/she frowns; “Yeah, no. That was the name of a teacher who made sixth grade a living hell for me.” Even the names of respected relatives present you with untenable choices. My maternal grandfather was named Olive. Lisa’s paternal grandfather was named Volley. … Read more…