|Greece the name of the destination|
Today or rather, tonight I’d like to talk about names. As I type, I sit in a darkened airplane on my way over the ocean. London is the destination on my way to a vacation in Greece. It is 12:26 in the morning and, as I look around in the darkness, I feel like the last living cell in a dead body. I mean no one is awake! Relax; my Vincent Price imitation is over it’s just a little creepy in a dark plane at this hour of the night.
All is calm…and then eek, turbulence. If I make a few typos I hope you understand. My partner in crime, and life, is sleeping like a baby next to me. I just don’t get how someone can sleep so happily sitting upright in a chair. I mean this coach seat is no Laz-Z-Boy. My knees rest up against the seat in front of me. Still, he snores and clutches the scratchy military type blanket up to his chin. Sweet dreams my love.
I did say I was going to discuss names, but I digress. I am an 8-hour a night gal. If I get less than that my brain goes into hibernation. If you ask my name in few hours I might not even remember. So…here we go back to names.
Have you ever noticed how some names go through stages of popularity? I mean, when did Brittany unseat Bertha? I guess it must have been around the same time that Joshua was doing the same thing to Melvin. One wonders, if, in 2049 will Brittany sound as outdated as Ethel and Myrtle. Seriously don’t you think we have enough Jessica’s and Jennifer’s in the world? Wouldn’t it be refreshing to come across an Irma or Eunice?
My mom, however, bucked tradition. She named me Crystal. When I was growing up my name was as rare as a three-dollar bill. There was not another Crystal in sight!
All through school I spent my life repeating, spelling, and then repeating again. I’ve been known as Krystal, Cristal, Kristil, Chrystal, and Christal. I’d plead and spell C-r-y-s-t-a-l! Eventually, I’d give up and just say I was named for the fine crystal glassware my mother drank her champagne out of the night I was conceived. The teachers would peg me as troublemaker and spell it the way they wanted. My own grandmother never spelled my name correctly! So I’d take my check for five dollars made out to Krystal and thank her. Why fight it?
It’s 2017 and now you can’t swing a dead cat (meaning it’s everywhere) where I don’t run into a Crystal somewhere! I mean even Hugh Hefner was engaged to a Crystal Harris, and boy did my blog blow up when they broke up!
I didn’t have enough fun trying to get my name across to people when I was growing up so I had to go and marry an Ogle. Ogle, just like the word that means to stare at in a leering way. Four simple letters and I’ve had to spell it thousands of times! O-g-l-e. How hard is that?
In my second marriage I married a Donnelly, you know the sweet slumbering fellow snoring next to me. No it’s not Donelli, Irish, not Italian.
You know I once dated a guy whose last name was Diamond. Now, if we had continued to date, and, happened to marry, my name would have been Crystal Diamond. Now, tell me with a straight face that doesn’t sound like a stripper or a porn star. Thank god that didn’t work out.
3 hours and 53 minutes to destination.