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On Choosing A Cool Last Name
One of the things that my future wife told me when we were engaged was that she wanted her married name to be Swan (actually, лебедь) and that she’d dreamed about it since she was a little girl. At least the cards were stacked in my favor. “Well,” I said. “Then let me tell you a little story about how I almost didn’t get this cool last name.” The surname swan isn’t all that rare and comes in several flavors. One “n” or two. We are of the two “n” variety. You see, my last name was pure happenstance. Or the fulfillment of a little girl’s dreams. My father was…
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My brother’s bike
A Kawasaki 900. It was probably a 1988 or 1989 model. I don’t remember, but it was a beautiful bike. Dark blue and way too much power for a teenager to handle. Heck, my Suzuki 650 that I bought four or five years later in Montgomery was way too much for me to handle — but I digress. I was a teenager — maybe the 11th grade — and I don’t want to brag or anything, but I had a motorcycle license. In its wisdom, the state of Alabama wouldn’t allow me to drive four-wheeled vehicles at 14, but drive the far more dangerous two-wheel type? That’s just fine. David was my brother and he spent…
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Happy Paternal Unit Day, Papa
As a new paternal unit, I pondered what I wanted to be called by our children. For some reason, I wanted them to call me Papa. I’m not sure why. Maybe because that’s what their mother had always called her paternal unit in Russia where she was born and raised. Papa. I liked the sound of it. Like millions of families, our girls heard a mixture of two languages in their first few years. The one I liked to hear was, “Papa.” “Where’s Papa?” “Papas’ home.” “Papa’s going to class.” “Go tell Papa we’re ready to eat.” “Papa’s going to read you a story.” I very much loved being called…
