The Name Game

We all know people who have unusual names. Some of them are intended to be "cute," like Justin Thyme or Madison S. Garden. You might wince when you hear names like these, but others might think they're clever. Whether someone has a "good" name is subjective. You can't legislate this kind of thing, right? Well, that's exactly what one judge in the Dominican Republic wants to do.

Apparently, there is a trend among Dominicans to give their children names that are cartoon characters, body parts, and car makes. Gender ambiguity is also big in names these days. An electoral commission judge is against this sort of thing. Unfortunately, for the sake of irony and this column, this judge is not named "Outlandish Justice Smith." It is Jose Angel Aquino.

Two of the names Aquino mentioned were "Mazda Altagracia" and a name that translates to "Breast Jimenez." I can understand his not being a fan of names like this, but that doesn't mean I think they should be outlawed. Who has the right to decide for others what they should name their kids?

Of course, the Dominican Republic isn't the only place where children are sometimes given unusual names. My son went to school with a boy named "Tai-chi" and a girl named, "Gypsy." In the past few decades, we've seen names like, "Butterfly," "Freedom," and "Peace" – not to mention, "Moon Unit" and "Dweezil." In the world of sports, there have been players named Lawyer Malloy, Pacman Jones, and Coco Crisp.

But clearly what the judge is talking about are names that parents give their kids that don't seem appropriate to him. We all know what he means. Parents come up with a first name that they think would be a fun combo with their last name. If their family name is Daniels, they name the kid, "Jack." If the parents' name is Port, they name their child, "Ari." If their last name is Land, they name their kid, "Disney."

Some parents show appropriate restraint. Minnie Driver's folks resisted naming her, "Backseat," Barry Bond's parents didn't name him, "Junk," and Brad Pitt's parents held back from naming him, "Arm."

But some people just can't stop themselves from giving their child an outrageous name. I know we're supposed to be non-judgmental about this, but it's hard not to react if Mr. and Mrs. Motel name their daughter, "Bates," or if Mr. and Mrs. Mills name their son, "General." And I'm going to feel bad for the kid if Mr. and Mrs. Waite named him "Over."

Our thought when we hear names like these is that the parents didn't really think things through. They might have had a good laugh when they gave their kid a name, but apparently they didn't realize how much he or she would be teased. For example, if you have twins, you don't have to name them "Trick" and "Treat." If your last name is Bigg, you can resist the temptation to name your daughter, "Too." A well-known retired racecar driver has the name Dick Trickle. What were his parents thinking when they named him, "Richard?" If your last name were Trickle, don't you think you'd think things through a bit?

On the other hand, if we are to believe that great child psychologist, Johnny Cash, maybe having a name that gets a kid teased might make that kid stronger. That's what he sang about in "A Boy Named Sue." Shel Silverstein wrote the song, and Silverstein wrote many respected stories and books for children. In the song, Sue's father points out that it's because of Sue being picked on and having to fight so much that he became a strong man.

All of this supports my initial position that a democratic country cannot and should not legislate what people name their kids. What some people think is a stupid name, others will think is brilliant. There just can't be any objective standard about this. Well, there can be in one instance. Years ago, a basketball player whose last name was "Free" changed his name to "World B. Free." It was a nice sentiment, but the problem is that he changed his name from what is objectively one of the absolute greatest names ever: Mr. Free's first name had been Lloyd.

Words From The Afterlife

I know it's not the same as toiling in the mines, but writing is hard work. That's why it's so impressive to me when someone is prolific. Thriller novelist Robert Ludlum, author of "The Bourne Identity," among others, is an example. He has written countless books depicting intricate conspiracies, some were turned into movies, he has sold almost 300 million copies, and has had his books translated into 32 languages. But the really amazing thing is that he has published more than a dozen books in the last eight years. Why is that so impressive? He died in 2001.

Ludlum hasn't proved that there is life after death, but he's certainly shown that there can writing after death. It's not unique for previously unpublished works of a writer to be published posthumously. But the late Ludlum continues to crank these things out year after year. He has fans everywhere who anxiously await the next book written by a dead guy.

His executor and his agent say that some of the works have been books that Ludlum wrote, but just weren't published before he passed away. Others have been written by other writers including an old friend of Ludlum's whose name sounds a bit like a Ludlum villain - – Eric Van Lustbader. However, it's the Ludlum name that sells books. Van Lustbader wrote "The Bourne Betrayal," but on the book's cover, Ludlum's name is twice as tall as Van Lustbader's.

It was probably thirty years ago that I started reading Ludlum's page-turning books of intrigue where there was a new conspiracy in every other chapter. More recently, I often buy a Ludlum paperback at the airport before I fly somewhere. That's what I did on a recent trip. I feel it's fitting for me to read a mystery on an airplane since there is so much mystery involved in air travel these days: Will the plane arrive on time? Will my suitcase be there? Or like the last time I flew -- will I be stopped by security for possession of yogurt with intent to eat?

The book I chose on my recent trip, "The Sigma Protocol" is thought to have been the last novel written entirely by Ludlum. I didn't know that when I bought it. I was a little suspicious, because on the cover it didn't say, "written by Robert Ludlum," it just said, "Robert Ludlumä." That's right. There was a little "trademark" symbol next to his name. I didn't know you could trademark your own name. Did his estate think that if they hadn't done this, millions of other people would be walking around the world calling themselves, "Robert Ludlum?"

Those who put out his books don't exactly announce that Ludlum is no longer with us. Believe me, it doesn't say, "A book written in the style of the late Robert Ludlum" on any of the covers. But this is not a conspiracy against the great conspiracy theorist. All of this post-death writing is being done with Ludlum's permission and blessing. He wanted his life's work to go on after his life. Well, who doesn't? Wouldn't you like your heirs to continue to receive your paychecks after you pass away while someone else does the work for you? These days, it's hard enough for a living person to make a living, and here's a dead one who's doing a lot better than most of us.

However, there's no reason to be envious of Ludlumä and Company. The good news is that he has set a precedent for the rest of us. We can all decide that our careers will continue after we pass away. So, if you don't feel like going into work next week, all you have to tell your boss is, "Don't worry. I owe you a week, and I'll make it up the first week after I die." If your boss doesn't buy it, just claim it's a conspiracy against you. And then write a book.