06 May 2010
For the third month in a row, I accompanied Jennifer to her appointment with her midwife. I first went in March with the idea that I would get to hear the baby’s heartbeat. But, no dice. Neither the midwife nor her apprentice could find the beat. So I went again in April and, still, no detection of a heartbeat. And today, for the third time, I left without getting to hear kid #2’s pulse. I’m beginning to think that maybe this new baby does not have a heartbeat, which would mean that it’s probably a robot. Which, you know, is great. I mean, I wouldn’t be disappointed. It’s just that we already have a robot.
Then there’s the ongoing discussions of what to name the cyborg. We narrow the choices drastically before we even think of names we do like:
-No names of people in our family (Stan, Dan, Diane)
-No names that are too popular (Emma, Ethan, Madison)
-No bible names (Jacob, Mary, Melchizedek)
-No names that form unfortunate semordnilaps (Tara, Natasha, Dennis)
Actually, though I like to think these are established ‘rules,’ we continually waver on these and have considered names in at least three of the above four categories.
A couple of names that have been suggested to me are Luke and Beru, for a boy and a girl, respectively. Luke, of course, violated the anti-bible name policy, above, and Beru is, well, just weird. The upside is that they are both from Star Wars, as is Owen – in fact, they are all names from the same family within the Star Wars universe. But though it appears we glean our names from fictional texts, this isn’t a must. In the case of Owen, actually, it was only after I’d considered the name for a few days that I suddenly realized it was the name of a Star Wars character. Owen’s middle name is likewise from a movie (The Unsinkable Molly Brown), but it’s not as if we named Owen after the character Sheamus in that horrible motion picture. Rather, we were just watching it one evening, I heard the character’s name, and said: “Hey, that’d be good for our kid’s middle name.” Jennifer pointed out that she’d already mentioned that name a few months earlier, but I’d somehow forgotten. And now, once again, it appears that the front-runners for girl’s first and middle name are from movies, as is the front runner for boy’s middle name. Perhaps if we have a boy we will give him the first name Lando.
07 May 2010
Upon hearing a Bob Dylan song on the radio today, I once again returned to this conundrum:
Is there any Bob Dylan song in which he himself performs the best version (apart from songs wherein he has done the ONLY version)? I mean, think about it:
My Back Pages: better by the Ramones
Don’t think Twice, It’s Alright: better by the Four Seasons
Blowin’ in the Wind: better by Peter, Paul and Mary
The Times They are a-Changin’: better by Simon and Garfunkel
Mr. Tambourine Man: better by the Byrds
Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door: better by Eric Clapton
All Along the Watchtower: better by U2, but smokingly awesome by Jimi Hendrix.
There. Granted, I’m not well-versed in the tenets of Dylan’s catalog, but in every case where I know the song, and am aware of at least one cover, the cover triumphs.
Also today:
On MPR, in between their protracted, pandering, phony pleas for dollars (an odd thing to ask for after airing news reports on how lousy the economy is), they used the term “six state area.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard the term “six-state area.” I’ve often heard the term “five-state area,” a reference to Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa and the Dakotas and which, when I was a kid, presumed was some kind of comradship we had with our neighbors. But as I aged, I realized that such a term varied depending on the context. I mean, sure, those five states seem like a team when you’re living near the center of them, but does someone in, say, Rapid City, South Dakota really feel they’re part of some five-state conglomerate with the folks in Milwaukee?
Last summer, while in Iowa, I saw an add that mentioned the “tri-state” area; a term I immediately took to mean Iowa, Wisconsin, and Minnesota. But, looking more closely at the ad, I discovered the reference was to Iowa, Wisconsin, and Illinois. Wow, talk about a paradigm shift in the way I looked at the world. Now I’ve come to see the reference to any group of states must be clearly understood in the text, or by obvious geography. For example, I’m sure that anyone in Maine understands the “two-state area” to be Maine and New Hampshire. But, otherwise, define your parameters!
So, today, when I heard “six-state area” without an accompanying definition, I was left to wonder: which six states do they mean? Minnesota, for sure, but what else? My guess is North Dakota, Montana, Idaho, Utah, and Nevada. Makes perfect sense.
Michael is a very nice name…
MPR has a stations in upper Wisconsin and the upper peninsula of Michigan.
On the baby name front I argued for the name “Batai” from my favorite Star Trek episode “The Inner Light”. I was voted down by my wife for a more classic and conservative boy’s name.
In exchange for this loss I was awarded the rights to name any future twins Luke & Leia.
Mike- Yes, you do have a very nice name. I think we’ve been over this before, though. First of all, “Michael” violates two of the above guidelines: it’s a bible name, and we have family members with that name (a cousin and a brother-in-law). Also, and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but two of my least favorite people I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing are named Michael. And, no, I’m not talking about you, or my brother-in-law, or my cousin.
Cory- So “six-state area” must include the ‘usual’ five + Michigan? I could see that.
Star Trek has lots of great names, but you’re wife’s right: many of them a little too weird.
I’ve long held that, should we ever have a twins (of the boy/girl variety) they’re getting named Anakin and Anneka, thereby referencing our two favorite sci fi universes. (And they’re both part machine! Which, evidently, is what we make around here…)
Glad to see your name doesn’t form an unfortunate semordnilap. Mine nearly does…I’m just glad I wasn’t named Names.