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Curse of the Common Name

Do you suffer from the “Curse of the Common Name” Common Nameor are you one of those blessed with a truly unique name that identifies you before anyone actually meets you?

I’ve always hated the name “David” because it was so common.

I much preferred “Keith” growing up but I never had the gumption to insist others actually refer to me by that name.

My father wanted to call me “Rocky” but my mother demanded the ordinary safe “David” harbor to the extraordinary rough shore. I’m not thrilled with the idea I was almost a Rocky, but anything is better than the “beloved” David.

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Network Solutions Confesses

I realize the past couple of weeks have heavily dealt with blog entries here about technical issues that concern my web hosting move from LunarPages to Network Solutions.

Forgive me for another entry in that vein, but I need to share an update with you about the slow database interaction between this blog and Network Solution’s implementation of MySQL (pronounced “My S-Q-L” and not “My Sequel” — “Sequel” is the name of an IBM database — so we shouldn’t confuse the two even though hardcore engineers love to slang it up with the “Sequel” mispronunciation; just because it’s convenient doesn’t mean it’s correct.

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The Isherwood Indictment

My biological father’s last name is Isherwood. I was born David Isherwood. My biological father left my mother and me 10 days after my birth (the divorce court, I am told, had ordered him to stay 10 days after I was born and he stayed exactly 10 days to the minute). Not a moment longer. Not a month in the basement to help out my mother and their new son. Nothing. He was gone and in the arms of another woman so he could start a new family with her. My biological father went on to father three more children with his second wife. They divorced a few years ago.

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Deconstructing My Name

by María L. Trigos S. Gilbert

Hi, my name is María L. Trigos S. Gilbert. I was born in Caracas, Venezuela. I am now living in the USA; now let me tell you how I got here. One day, I was in a mission trip, preaching the Gospel, when I met Billy Gilbert, my husband (I call him my “gringo” – a gringo is a North American, colloquial term in Latin America ). At first I thought that he was an Italian for how he looked. But gosh, I was wrong because when he spoke, I found out from accent that he was a North American, and a very nice one.

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