We’re listening to the Phillies play Baltimore. Player changes in spring training games are fast and furious. One of the announcers mentioned, “Rhyan Hughes is in the game,” followed by a discussion of Rhyan’s unorthodox spelling.
“No personalized pencils,” Helaine said.
Of all life’s heartbreaks Helaine and I share or have shared, personalized pencils is right up there! You Bobs and Ricks and Dennises don’t understand the disappointment of young Helaines and Geoffs and Stefanies. We vainly search tchotchke stores never finding that coffee cup, bicycle license plate or damned pencils that you probably have!
Sure Jeff, Helen and Stephanie are represented, but those are not our names–though we’ve all gotten mail addressed that way. It was probably addressed at the personalized pencil factory!
I expect to turn on MSNBC one weekend and see some sorry soul locked up in the SHU at a nondescript Midwest prison. Describing his life of crime he’ll say: “It all started because I was the only kid in the neighborhood without a bike license.”
Here’s our advice for parents to be: Eschew cute names. Go with the common. Go with the mundane. They want their pencils.