I want my name back!

Joe Six-Pack.

Joe the Plumber.

Dear Republidicks: please pick some kind of Republican name to use as your "everyman" name. Biff, Lawson, Chad, or Clayton all sound good. Just leave mine out of your bullshit. Thank you.


My oldest friends

Jenny, Joe, and Iris at OHHS 20th reunion

One of the very cool things about growing up in a small town (pop. ±8,000) is having the same classmates from elementary school through graduation. When I went back for my 20th high school reunion (gah!) a month back, I got to catch up with two of my oldest friends, Iris and Jenny.

Iris and Jenny were always partners in crime, and they graciously let me tag along from day one. And I mean day one of kindergarten. We met by luck of the last name draw (W., V., and T.) when we were grouped together in home room.

As an only child, having fast friends gave me a sense of security and warmth that saw me though the difficult days of scraped knees, ABCs, and playground scuffles. We stayed friends all the way through 12th grade cowbell class by virtue of being all of one mind on pretty much everything. Their parting words of wisdom before graduation: "Don't marry anyone named Beth." (Yes, there's a history of Beths and no, it's not a good one. :0)

Now that we're all grown up, I was surprised at how those first-grade feelings of comfort still came rushing back as soon as I saw them again. I love you girls!