Showing posts with label baby names. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baby names. Show all posts

Thursday, May 7, 2020

Help me name my shoe shine business!


This isn’t the first time I’ve had a proprietary hand at naming stuff. Throughout my life I’ve helped or outright named three businesses, two humans and one canine. Some have prospered better than others.

Our first dog was a sweet-souled Golden Retriever with near-zero evidence of having a brain. Val suggested we name him Casey. I suggested we name him Peev because sooner or later even the best in-home animals become pet Peevs.

Lost that one.

We’re were wisely old-fashioned about our babies. We  waited until they were below-the-waist popped out before the real-time gender reveal. Those were two of my most intense and bewilderingly wonderful moments of our lives. 

I named the youngest, primarily after alt-country troubadour Lucinda Williams and the middle name because it rhythmically fit between the other names. 

She is Lucinda Grace Rodell and she today is showing a darling affinity for stringed fretted instruments.

The first baby was trickier because we were convinced baby’d be a boy. 

Amazingly, I had Val convinced the perfect boy name was Buzz Sawyer (it still is).

I said Buzz to honor Buzz Aldrin, the second human to set foot on the moon and the least boring of them all. Sawyer for the Mark Twain allusions and because she at the time was into the hit show “Lost” and she had the hots for a character named Sawyer.

The core of my reasoning, however, was the kid would pick up the obvious nickname that the announcers would seize on, “… and here comes Buzz Saw Rodell ripping another hole in the beleaguered Patriot defense!”

It should come as no surprise that Val was heavily sedated when she nodded her agreement to my scheme.

Either way, we wound up with the precious baby we named Joselyn Rachel for reasons I now struggle to recall.

Business-wise, the results of my naming efforts have been spottier, which could explain why the results of those businesses have been mostly catastrophic.

My first travel writig business was almost called “Postcards from Paradise,” a name meant to evoke lovely destinations, but was, in fact, a shady cover for trying to get free trips. But a savvy older friend said the name was a giveaway for the fraud.

So at the last second I changed it to “Palm Features,” a name meant to evoke lovely destinations, but was, in fact, a shady cover for … Why Palm Features? Because my hands were always up-turned and reaching out for freebies.

Worst name ever? You’re reading it. “Eight Days to Amish,” a reference to how soon my precarious income will lead to exclusively fundamentalist lifestyle options. It’s hard to remember, a joke nobody gets …

I still love it.

That brings us to our latest professional enterprise: Shoe Shine Boy!

I’m totally serious.

I’m reaching out to contacts at law firms, doctors’ offices, etc, — any place prosperous men with feet gather to earn their livings.

Many of these men have nice shoes, but are too busy or indifferent to give them a proper shine. I believe on any given day these men would be willing to pay about $12 to get their dress shoes cared for.

I also plan on doing local pick-up.

I do think it could lead to handy pocketfuls of cash. Plus, it’s a hook I can add to the book proposal I’m putting together about men who appreciate fine footwear or as one friend put it, “male shoe whores.”

So I put together a top-of-the-head list for a bottom-of-the-leg business. Let me know what you think:


• I’m always drawn to the deep inside joke. Only maybe 1-out-of-10 would find this even mildly amusing. But I could see me using this as the introductory joke no matter what I pick …

“The Shining”

Heeere’s Johnnie ….

with your good-as-new shined shoes!






• Until I started this. I’d never known any man who shined his own shoes, much less an actual shoe shine professional. But the practice conjures real homey feelings. I was buying some polish at the Walgren’s and the check-out clerk just about came apart, “Oh, that takes me back to watching my grandfather shine his shoes. Such a happy memory.” I think it all stems from the idea that everything is disposable and seeing someone care for something others discard is heartening. This one plays off that …

“Front Porch Shoe Shine”

Out the door by breakfast, 
Shining by supper or sooner!



• I prefer the tagline to the main name, but you can’t have one without the other …

New Buddy Shoe Shine

Making Friends One Shine at a Time





• This one refers to my Parkinson’s with the idea word will get around the office I have the disease and customers will think, gee, let’s give the poor kid an extra buck. But it sounds too much like an ice cream shoppe …

Shakes ’n’ Shines!



• Another Hollywood reference. Most guys’ll get this. It would make a good T-Shirt with Joe Pesci on it …


Goodfella Shoe Shine

I Got My $#&%-in’ Shine Box!




I’m most fond of this one because it’s clever, like 8days2amish, perhaps too clever. It’s a play on the still popular 1983 Bonnie Tyler hit. Changing the spelling of the first word in the title so it would have a foot reference is just plain stupid but there’s no  one here to talk me out of it so I just did it anyway.

Toe-tal Eclipse of the Shoe

 Shines so Bright They Blind



So what do you think? Like any of these? Have any shoes that need shinin’?


Well, heeere’s Johnnie!

Saturday, May 14, 2016

Naming babies after cities, states (from '12)

So I was watching a news show where Savannah Guthrie was slated to be talk to Dakota Fanning and wondering why some cities and states rate baby names and others do not.

I love Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but I’ve never heard of man named Pittsburgh Smith or a woman named Pennsylvania Barnes. But I’ve heckled retired baseball manager Dallas Green, read Virginia Woolf, and maintain one of the great names in movie history is Indiana Jones (character’s real name: Henry Walton Jones Jr.)

Would the hero have enjoyed nearly half the dash if he’d been nicknamed after either of the Hoosier State’s immediate neighbors? Ohio Jones? Illinois Jones?

Not a chance.

The United States of America were named in honor of explorer Amerigo Vespucci (1454-1512), the Italian mapmaker/explorer who proved that the New World wasn’t Asia, but a previously unknown fourth continent.

It’s an historic legacy, and I wonder how differently our patriotic iconography would be if Mr. and Mrs. Vespucci had named their boy Burt.

Think about it. We’d be the United States of Burt.

U.S.B.! U.S.B.! U.S.B.!

Doesn’t quite have same ring to it, does it? Plus, for the past 15 years or so international audiences would have been confused over whether we were cheering our native Olympians or useful computer ports.

And I’ve never met anyone named America. That’s surprising. You’d think the uber-patriots would name all their children America, a sure way to secure them internships at places like Fox News.

I think people shouldn’t name children after cities and states unless they were conceived there. Or maybe, like the old days, the birth city should just be included in the name like Jesus of Nazareth or Paris of Hilton.

Jordan’s a very popular name for both baby boys and girls, but I’ll bet no one ever associates the name with Middle Eastern connotations. You’ll likely get a big blank stare if you ask any old Jordan if the name gives he or she any ancestral pull with the ancient Hashemite Kingdom.

New York is one of my favorite cities, but naming a child New York would be a real clunker. Not so with some of the boroughs. There’s supermodel Brooklyn Decker, and Ashley Simpson and ex-husband Pete Wentz named their son Bronx Mowgli Wentz.

It’s unlikely NFL Hall of Fame quarterback Troy Aikman was named after the once-factual and now legendary city of Troy in Turkey, site of the Trojan War, or that “Baywatch” babe Alexandra Paul’s ever been to Alexandria, Egypt.

I’d thought a basketball superstar’s father must have served in the military and had fond memories of Kobe, Japan, to name his offspring Kobe. Wrong! Turns out Joe and Pamela Bryant were inspired to name their son Kobe after seeing the marbled beef delicacy on a restaurant menu.

So I guess it’s perfectly okay for a boy named after steak to occasionally act like a hot dog.

Chris isn’t the easiest unisex name in the world to lug around, but I wear it with pride because I know how much it meant to my parents when they yelled it and I came running.

That’s the way it is with parents. The kid doesn’t become the name.

The name becomes the kid.

Still, I’d advise parents against naming their daughters Dakota or Savannah. I just know puckish doctors would be forever joking about whether perceived ailments were in North Dakota or South Dakota.

And Savannah’s a great city, but I’d be weary about naming a girl Savannah for fear that one day an insensitive physician might joke that Savannah’s congestion might stem from too much traffic downtown.

Rap culture has given us an interesting example of how one state name can be morphed into an interesting handle. That would be Flo Rida, a nifty homage to the Sunshine State where singer Tramar Dillard was raised.

Of course, that clever kind of deconstruction wouldn’t work at all with some states.

For instance, woe be unto the father who risks the future virtue of his daughter by naming her, say, Idaho.