Thursday

I, of course, know nothing. Generally. But in particular, about the aged clarinet.

Yesterday I sent my first note to 1 after the wedding, and needed to consult with Mom to confirm use of the new last name on the envelope. Co-incidentally, 1 sent out an email today to remind everyone that her school address in our email books needed to be changed since she had made the name change in the school's system.

I think that the reality of a daughter assuming the name of her new husband could be a Craig Wilson topic. His direct experience may be suspect, but that never has been much of an impediment to a columnist with the germ of an idea for a story. I don't know if he and his partner have kids, or if one member of a gay couple assumes the name of the other. But that's a whole different kettle of fish that I'll leave for another day.

Anyway. Back to 1 now being Mrs. 1.1. I really hadn't thought much about the point until I began writing her name on the envelope. It was a little strange. I actually thought more intuitively about it then than I did while walking her down the aisle last month. Wisdom suggests that daughters will always be their Dad's little girls. Wisdom is probably right.

On a distant, but related point, I think we always remember women by the last name that we originally knew them. Think cousins, nieces, sister-in-laws, etc. Sue Ryan? (If relatives were not close geographically in the growing-up years, then a married name will stick since the maiden name may never truly have been in common use.) Grade school and high school classmates are the same way. Actually, I need to go to the old yearbooks to remember any name from back then, first or last.

If this concept is taken out a little further on the philosophical curve, you can discuss the reality of a promoted military officer, particularly those 2nd Louie's, still being considered at the lower rank by his/her troops if he/she has remained with the same outfit. I suppose that the same reality exists in any workplace. A line guy becomes the foreman. A teacher becomes the principal. An agent becomes the manager of many agents.

4 is back through town tonight on her way to C-town for the weekend. It's Hawkeye Day at Wrigley Field tomorrow. The Iowa AD tosses out the first pitch. I wonder if Herky will lip-sync "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" for the seventh inning stretch? 4 will be going to that game, and then to the Iowa football game at Soldier Field on Saturday where they will meet Northern Illinois in a clash of mediocrity.

2 and I will venture in to C-town Sunday morning to join with 3 and 4 for a deferred Father's Day celebration on Sunday. The plan was originally to go to the Cub's game, but I think we have all concluded that we can save the $$$'s from the tickets and just hang out at the Wrigleyville establishments and watch the game on TV.

As an equal opportunity blog, good luck to the Clones on their big game(?) with Kent tonight. I don't think that it's Clark Kent. But I've been wrong before. (I actually played a game or two at Kent State in another lifetime. Before the National Guard arrived.)

BCOT