Even Horses Can Have Oddball Names

What's in a name?  We all know people whose names match their personalities, or perhaps their personalities became a function of their names.  There are also family names incorporated into the choice for newborns and names that follow a trend or names that set a trend.

And then there are the oddballs (to me), including in 2015, Atlas, Armani, Arrow, Chichi, Diem, Jedi, Pi, Sailor, Twinkle, and Tulip (at least three children received each of these names to be included in the survey results).

It got me thinking about the names for the entries in the Kentucky Derby this year.  I could guess at the inspiration for some of the horses' names, but needed explanations for others.  Here is a report by Pia Catton from The Wall Street Journal on May 4, 2016.

According to Ms. Catton, there are naming rules established by the Jockey Club, the organization that registers thoroughbred horses.  Names must be eighteen characters or less and must meet a long list of criteria (nothing commercial, vulgar, or rude).  And no copying the names of famous horses.

A horse's pedigree has traditionally been the greatest inspiration for names, but this year's racers demonstrated that the inspiration can come from just about anywhere.

Trojan Nation - Owner Julie Gilbert is a USC Trojan fan, and her father was class of '53.

Suddenbreakingnews - Owner Samuel Henderson was too late to claim "Breaking News" as his horse's name, but by adding a word and dropping the spaces he established a new identity.

Creator - It's obvious that the inspiration came from above, but racing manager Elliot Walden said he waited for the right horse to fit the name.  Twenty-nine other horses belonging to WinStar Farm didn't qualify.

Mo Tom (not Mo Town!!) - Sired by 2010 champion "Uncle Mo," this name combines pedigree and owner Tom Benson's name.  When the owner was going through health issues, the family needed "more Tom."

Gun Runner - Owner Ron Winchell wanted a strong name that others would be afraid to run against.

My Man Sam - This horse was named after one of the Sheep Pond Partner's sons.

Oscar Nominated - The mare of this horse is "Devine Actress," daughter of the sire "Theatrical and Devine Beauty."

Lani - Hawaiian for "sky," this colt's mare was "Heavenly Romance."

Destin - "Destiny" was already taken, so the owners at Twin Creeks Racing had to come up with another name relating to fate (the mare's name was "Dream of Summer").

Whitmore - Named for a talented athlete, Wilbur Whitmore, in trainer Ron Moquette's high school in Pocola, Oklahoma.

Exaggerator - Resulted from a discussion between owner Matt Bryan and trainer Keith Desormeaux about a few women in their lives who were prone to exaggerating.

Tom's Ready - Tom Benson, who also owns "Mo Tom," was asked if he was ready to spend $100,000 on a horse.  He answered, "I am ready."

Nyquist - Owner J. Paul Reddam loves the Detroit Red Wings and named this year's winner for forward Gustav Nyquist.

Mohaymen - This name is from an Arabic word meaning "dominant."

Outwork - Owner and entrepreneur Mike Repole said, "I always talk about outworking your competition."

Shagaf - Named after the Arabic word for "fond of."

Mor Spirit - "Mor" is "mother" in Danish, and owner Michael Petersen't mother is a spirited woman.  His wife suggested the name.

Majesto - This name combines the initials of two of the owner's sons, Mauro and Jesus.  The "TO" stands for "todos," representing all seven of the owner's children.  It also means "glory" in an ancient language.

Brody's Cause - "Brody" is the name of owner Dennis Albaugh's great nephew.  "Cause" came from the horse's sire, "Giant's Causeway."

Danzing Candy - This name is connected to the horse's pedigree.  His sire is "Twirling Candy," and the mare is "House of Danzing."

This is an Arabian thoroughbred, not Danzing Candy.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Funeral

The death of a loved one is perhaps the most traumatic event during a lifetime, particularly if it is the death of a parent in a close-knit family.

Solomon Wykoff was living in Rhode Island when his father passed away in Florida. Sol detested flying.  A dutiful son, he drove to Florida in his long silver Mercedes to claim the body that had been prepared for burial in Rhode Island.  He would be his father's guardian.

Sol was an attorney, so he knew what had to be done.  Body transport is governed on the state level, and a few states boast independent licensed body transportation, such as Virginia and Florida.  Sol wasn't going to trust his father's body to a transport company.  He was going to drive his father himself.

Embalming is almost never required, but in Florida, a body must be embalmed or refrigerated if disposition does not occur within twenty-four hours.  Obviously driving from Florida to Rhode Island would take more than twenty-four hours.  Refrigeration or dry ice can usually preserve a body for a short time.

A death certificate with the local registrar must be filed within five days of the death before final disposition. The deceased's doctor or medical examiner must supply the date, time, and cause of death.  Sol received the original certificate and copies within the allotted time and it was filed with the State (Florida now uses electronic as well as paper registrations).  Sol was good to go.

Or was he?  The county chief deputy registrar had to issue a burial-transit permit allowing Sol to move the body for purposes of burial or cremation.  This had to be obtained within five days after death.

And he needed a container to transport his father that would "prevent the seepage of fluids and escape of offensive odors" (Florida law).  Knowing that it would be less expensive to drive his father rather than to have the body flown north, Sol checked with all the states that he needed to cross so that he could learn what each state required to transport the body.  Sol was an attorney - he'd done his homework.

He carefully put his father's body bag in the trunk of his black Mercedes and started north. The first night he stopped just over the border of North Carolina to get a quick six hours of sleep.

In the morning the Mercedes was gone.  The car and the body were recovered in New Jersey, but Sol had to fly home.


This is a true story.  Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

My Phobias

I must admit, I have a few phobias.  The one that invades my dreams most frequently is of snakes - and being trapped amid them, as in "Snakes on a Plane."

It probably resulted from growing up with snakes on my parents' property in Connecticut - in the rock wall, on the bank of the brook, in the woods behind our property.  Nowadays I buy a foul-smelling powder which I spread around the foundation of our Massachusetts house.  Since snakes can't see but they can smell, the manufacturer claims the snakes won't go near the powder.  One beautiful July day I found a garter snake taking a snooze on top of the powder!

Another phobia I have is of being trapped underground, although in my imagination asphyxiation would be slow and gradual, almost like falling asleep.  I don't suffer from claustrophobia and have often taken excursions in famous caves and tombs around the world.  I draw the line at exploring the catacombs of Rome, however, where I might become trapped with human heads and bones, or the tunnels under the pyramids of Egypt, where a guide's single candle lights the way and if extinguished, would leave me trapped in a  labyrinth forever.

There's another phobia I have, much less severe - it's of being on a ship and never being able to get off.

Now this might sound like utopia to some, especially if it were a cruise ship.  I know there are millions of travelers who don't want to pack and unpack to move around during a trip, so all they'd have to do is continue to uses the washer and dryer on board year after year. But cruise ships aren't my thing, since I always feel confined and want to explore LAND, not water! I admit that one of the best trips Charley and I have ever taken was through the Galapagos Islands of Ecuador, where the only way to explore the differing flora and fauna of the islands was to travel among them by ship (we had 100 people on board) and disembark on tenders. The only time we spent aboard ship was late afternoon through dinner, lectures, and sleep.  The next morning we were off again to explore completely different terrain and wildlife.

That has been our only experience as a couple on a ship (excluding ferries and cruises around city harbors). It freaks me out to think about possible storms aboard (and nausea!), and how 1000-6000 people would scramble to evacuate in an emergency.

Not to mention the viruses and germs one could pick up from the ventilation system or contaminated food or being isolated without the inability to reach loved ones in an emergency.

I recently read in The Palm Beach Post (March 14, 2016, page E1) about a woman who has chosen to spend eight years living aboard a ship. She is a Florida woman who had taken 89 cruises with her husband before he passed away.  After his death, she sold her home and became a permanent resident on the five-star Crystal cruise ship, Serenity. The twelve-year-old vessel has 655 crew members and Lee Wachtstetter has circled the globe fifteen times on the ship.  Her cruises total four hundred in number.

She rarely goes ashore because she figures she's already been there. Really?  But she sure knows the in's and out's of her ship's hallways and the square-footage of her compartment!  How about exploring NEW alleyways in ports along the route?  She says she loves the quiet when everyone else departs for excursions and spends that time watching a movie, reading, or doing her needlework.

She keeps up with her mail via laptop. Family members visit her when she docks in Miami, sometimes up to five times per year.
I wonder if she would list to starboard if she tried to walk on shore?

And resident Lee Wachtstetter has permanent company on board! Three other women live on the ship, too. They receive nice floral arrangements from the cruise line, occasional shipboard credits, and actual cash rewards upon reaching high-level cruise milestones.

"My daily average cost is $450," says Lee. "It's pricey, but my husband was a good provider."

Crystal Cruises provides dance hosts for passengers traveling alone (there are meet-and-greet cocktail parties).  Her husband didn't like to dance, but now Lee gets all the dancing she wants.

Before living on the Serenity, she lived on a Holland America liner for three years.  She switched when Holland America announced they were stopping the dance host program.

She meets new friends at dinner around a table for eight.  Guess how much weight she's gained?  Twenty-three pounds!  She has begun to order half portions for meals.

She teaches needle work to passengers and gives her work away to crew members, who make every attempt to create a "home" for Lee, even if they have to build it.  One crew member built extra storage shelves for her.  Another made a framed cushioned wall-hanging to hold her earrings.

A former R.N., she rarely has to visit the shipboard doctor.  Once, trying to get rid of a lingering, nasty cold, the ship's doctor advised, "You have laryngitis.  Don't talk."  On a ship?  Was he for real?

Speaking of reality, to each his own.

Let me know your thoughts about your phobias or living aboard a cruise ship by posting in the "Comment" box.

Thank-you Notes

When our sons were kids, I made them write thank-you notes. Every Christmas or birthday they knew they'd be sitting at the kitchen table writing a little note for their gifts. Their moans and groans could be heard over the television in the next room. Since I had taught high school English, the note couldn't just say, "Thank you for your gift."  It had to say "Thank you" and then give a reason why they liked the gift or could use it. When they received money gifts, their thank-you's were the easiest to write.  They could print, "Thanks for the money. I'll use it for some new hockey gloves (or a baseball glove)!" Sometimes I made them write a thank-you for a neighbor's help shoveling the driveway or a coach's dedication or a teacher's extra help after school.

The grandparents were the first priority to receive their thank-you's.  They treasured the misspelled words, the crayon drawings that accompanied the notes, and the heartfelt "I love you" surrounded by hearts at the end.  When we moved my parents from Connecticut to Florida, I found every thank-you our sons had written them tucked in a storage chest and wrapped in pink ribbon.

The way I looked at it, I was building a habit.  With practice the thank-you notes that were two lines became paragraphs.  It was a habit which made essay-writing in high school more bearable and it taught an important lesson.  Everyone likes acknowledgement.

I can tell you that I need this tool. Writing is only part of my job.  I need to work with editors and a publisher.  I need to go to conventions, interact, get reviews and interviews, and generate an audience through public appearances.  No-one can do all this on his own.  Gratitude for those who help along the way makes the path easier.

All sorts of doors may open if the writer is remembered because of a simple "Thank you" note. If a fan gives a positive review, I thank him for his kind words. If a review contains criticism, it might, nevertheless, contain suggestions for the future. I thank the reviewer for his time. Mass thank you's on social media might have less impact, but readers are grateful to be acknowledged.

You lose nothing by sending a "Thank you." Not saying it, though, could cost you. People don't have to take the time to purchase a gift or provide support, but if they do, they want to know they're appreciated. Our granddaughters' well-written thank-you's remain on a bulletin board for months. Our grandsons in kindergarten sent us pre-printed thank-you's and filled in the blanks. It's a good start!

The Joy of Flying

The temperature was forty degrees.  The boarding passes we'd printed at our son's read "Terminal A."  We stood at the back of the line on the curb at the Philadelphia Airport the Monday after Christmas.  All our gifts were in two suitcases for $50.

The gray-haired American Airlines employee at the curb had to be sixty.  With care he checked the couple's i.d.'s at the front of the line, punched in their baggage tags, stood waiting for them to print, received their tip with a double "Thank you," and with a groan shoved their bags to the top of the mound on the luggage cart. With the wind picking up, Charley sent me to investigate the line inside the terminal while he stayed with our bags.  The line inside still snaked around eight stanchions.

The American attendant repeated his ritual ten times.  We had moved up to second.  That's when he said, "Be right back."  He began to press his weight against the pyramid on the cart.  The cart inched forward a foot.  The man waiting at the head of the line jumped to help.  The cart began to roll through the automatic doors into the terminal.

After ten minutes the attendant returned to continue his tagging and after another five minutes, our bags sat on the cart, ready for flight.  "I'm sorry, but you're at the wrong terminal," the attendant said, looking at our boarding passes.

"But they say 'Terminal A'," I said, pointing to the boarding passes.

"They do, but since the merger with U.S. Air, the Florida flights are going out of Terminal C.  All three terminals are American now."

"What's the fastest way over there?" Charley said.

"Wait right at that corner there for a bus."

Ten minutes later we got off the bus at Terminal C. My toes tingled from lack of circulation, since I hadn't expected to stand in a line in 40-degree temperatures for forty-five minutes and had packed my boots in the suitcase I'd just checked.

Upstairs in Terminal C we checked the "Departures" board.  At least we were in the right place. "Where's the TSA Pre-check line?" Charley asked an American employee at the end of the security line.

"Back in Terminal B," he said.

About five years ago we paid $100 each and been interviewed for Global Entry on our passports so we could go through a screening machine re-entering the country.  The first time we tried it, Charley's fingerprints didn't read because his fingers had no oil.  We were detained in a side room for almost an hour with drug dealers and illegal immigrants.  We no longer used the Global Entry machines.

We paid $85 each for TSA Pre-check and had more interviews so we wouldn't have to wait in a long security line or remove our shoes or belts or jackets or baggies with 3 ounces of liquid or computers from cases.  The little red check mark with "TSA" was printed on our boarding passes.

By the time we walked back to Terminal B for pre-check, we could have passed through the long security line in Terminal C and been relaxed at our gate with a book and a coffee.  We stayed where we were.

As did our suitcases, which followed us back to Florida twenty-four hours later. I guess the curb attendant hadn't gotten anyone to help him push his cart inside.

The New Technology

This guest post is written by my pharmacist friend Don Weiss.  His murder mystery, Picture Perfect, is about to be released.  Check it out in e-book or paperback form on Amazon or Barnes and Noble!

Hello, fellow sexagenarians. I’m typing this blog post on my brand spanking new computer. It is light, fast, and pretty darned near amazing compared to my old machine. Which brings me to our topic—technology.  First, let’s harken back to those thrilling days of yesteryear.

For my twelfth birthday, I received a compact transistor radio, complete with leather case and earphone.  Raise your hand if you know what a transistor is?  Give up?  It’s a tiny device invented by two guys at Bell Labs that started the whole tech revolution. I had that little radio for years. I wasn’t married to it like kids are today, and I sure didn’t treat it like a disposable commodity. And for years, nothing better came along. Then sometime in the mid-seventies, things began to change. Two guys working out of their garage came up with something called the Apple II personal computer, and another revolution began.

It’s always amazed me how quick we are to embrace technology and how little about it we understand. Televisions used to come in big, heavy, wooden cabinets. We got three channels, and the broadcast day ended with a test pattern. Show of hands again. How many remember the test pattern?  The test pattern stood for two things: the end of the broadcast day or the Russians had just unloaded their entire nuclear arsenal in our direction, and we were to stand-by. We had to constantly adjust the vertical and horizontal hold and fiddle with the “rabbit ears” to clear up a fuzzy black-and-white picture.  But despite the primitive nature of the set, most of the programs were pretty darned good. Now our sets are 55 inch wide, ½ inch thick, ultra-high definition marvels of technology with computer interfaces. I have a satellite dish on my roof instead of a flimsy metal antenna and at least 2500 channels beamed down from a satellite hovering 22,000 miles above the planet in outer space.  Mostly, I watch the Discovery Channel, Netflix, and A&E., which brings me to my brand new laptop computer.

My daughter, Amanda, who is now 25 years old, sat with dear old dad to help set up my new machine. Mans (as I call her) was born in 1990.  She grew up with computers, cell phones, iPods, iPod minis,

PlayStations I, II, and III, Wiis, laptops, tablets, e-readers, and all of the other 21^st century marvels. She instantaneously adapts to every new gizmo that comes out of Silicone Valley. When she was a student at Florida Atlantic University, some of her courses were on-line. Why did it cost so much if my daughter didn’t have to leave her room to attend class?  When I attended university, I had to be there rain, shine, sleet, snow, or hail. Slide Rules ruled the day and the few computers we used had punch-cards. Anyone see a job for a key-punch operator lately?  I do take comfort in one thing. If all of our technology suddenly disappears, as a writer I can still sharpen up a few number two pencils and grab a piece of paper.

The Difference between Boys and Girls (under age eight)

            BOYS                                                              GIRLS

  1. During a snowball fight, my round               1. During a snowball fight,

      plastic sled is a good Captain                          my round plastic sled is a

     America shield.                                               good place to pile up snowballs.

                                                                            

  2. A spatula or ruler is a good                         2.  A spatula is for lifting food, a
     sword. A dead branch                                      ruler is for measuring, and a

     is a good gun.                                                 dead stick goes in the fireplace.

                                                                          

  3. A peanut-butter-and-jelly                            3. A peanut-butter-and-jelly

    sandwich is a good snack before                     sandwich is too yucky to touch.

    lunch or dinner.

  4. A coffee table is a good place                     4. I’m not allowed to put my feet

     to jump onto the sofa.                                     or my drink or my paints on the

                                                                          coffee table

  5. A coffee table also makes a                         5. We’re not allowed to play near

    good wall for a fort.                                           the coffee table!

  6. If there’s no blood, I’m OK.                         6. If there’s blood, call 9-1-1.

  7. If I climb onto a chair and the                       7. No climbing in the house!

    dining room table, the chandelier

    makes a good trapeze.

  8. My backpack can hold bread                       8. My backpack holds my 

     and cheese for a week in my                            pencils and papers and lunch 

     fort.                                                                for school.

  9. Clothes are optional in the house.                  9. I love my polka-dotted tights 

                                                                             and tutu so much I want to 

                                                                             wear them to bed!

10. “Poop” and “fart” are the most                     10. “Poop” and “fart” are the most

      fun words my Dad says.                                   fun words my Dad says.

11. Dirt and sticks and a ball are                        11. Mom’s phone is my favorite toy.

      my favorite toys.

12. Bathrooms are supposed to smell.                12. I don’t go in the bathroom after

                                                                              my brother uses it.

13. If there's a towel, I don't need                       13. I sing “Happy Birthday” three 

      soap to wash my hands.                                     times while I wash my hands.

14. Pillow fights are the best!                              14. Don’t anyone touch my pillow!

15. Sheets make good ghost costumes                15. My brother won’t touch my 

      if you cut eye holes.                                            sheets because they have

                                                                               flowers on them.

16. My sister is scared of snakes.                        16. I hate my brother!

17. I don’t know how to clean up.                         17. I love to help Mama clean!

18. My sister is a tattle-tale!                                 18. My brother is always starting

                                                                                 trouble.

19. No, I don’t have to pee again.                        19. Grandma, I have to go to the

      I just went before we got to this place.                 bathroom again.

20. Grandma, here are two                                   20. Grandma, would you please 

      Spidey books to read.                                          read this Fancy Nancy book 

                                                                                to me? I love you

                                                                                very much, Grandma!