Wednesday, September 30, 2009

I took a walk on my break... I am wont to do, and I went on one of my usual routes that takes me down a street called Mickey Lane. (Who in the heck ever thought that that would be a good name for a street?) It's just off Winnetka Road, which is the name of a fancy suburb nearby, and feeds into Burr Oak Drive, which sounds like a charming, tree-lined street. Burr Oak, in turn, leads into Sunset Ridge Road, which also has nice connotations. So how did Mickey Lane get in there? (Did some developer name it after his son? And if so, does that mean that he once thought that it would be a good name for his son?) What's more, Mickey Lane is actually a nice street with a number of beautiful, expensive homes. But somehow I can't picture myself spending over a million dollars on a house only to have to write down "Mickey Lane" as my address. Couldn't we just say that I live a couple of doors in from Burr Oak Drive?

I turned on Sunset Ridge and walked past a fence with the name Bob Jaacks on it. I couldn't help thinking how difficult it must be to go through life with a name like that.


"Yes, I'd like to reserve a table for two tonight."

"Certainly, sir. And what time would you like?"

"How about 7:30?"

"7:30 it is. And what is the name?"

"Jaacks. Bob Jaacks."

"Jaacks. Got it. Spelled just as it sounds, I imagine."

"Well, actually, it's spelled with two A's."

"Beg pardon?"

"It has two A's. It's spelled J-A-A-C-K-S."


"It has two A's!"

"What has two A's?"

"My last name! It's spelled J-A-A-C-K-S!"

"Are you serious?"

It would probably continue on in that vein for a few more minutes, but I'm sure he would finally make his reservation.

Just before I turned onto my own street, I was startled by a guy who came out of his house suddenly in just a pair of pants. That's right; no shirt or shoes or socks, just a pair of pants. (And people think I look strange getting my newspaper every morning in my bathrobe.) I was a little concerned, at first, that he was being held hostage or something in his own home. But as I stared at him he just nodded back at me and grinned as if to say, "What's the matter, haven't you ever seen a guy step out of his house to get the mail before?"

I took this as my cue to go back home. See what you're missing, not working out of the house?

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