Here’s a post script to the “Names You Just Can’t Make Up” offering of June 4th.
Because so many wonderful readers sent in their own suggestions that fit this category, I felt they deserved to be published. Here’s what we can add to our list:
An astute reader who goes by ‘Anonymous’ mentioned that she knew a family named Doctor, and that there was a Dr. Doctor and a nurse Doctor in that family. This reminded me that I knew a Ronald Docter (sic)* who became an optometrist, so he was Dr. Docter, too.
A reader named Rachel shared that she works for a Dr. Wisdom, and noted that he should have been an oral surgeon!
Bonnie wrote in to say that her physician is Dr. L’Ecuyer, which is pronounced “Le Cure”! You gotta love that!
Straight Guy commented that one of his past physicians was named Dr. Healed. Even better, he went to school with two girls with the last name Crotchfelt. I still can’t read that and not cringe on their behalf.
Lizzie Borden (I swear I am not making this up) wrote in just to express her solidarity with the whole project. I’m grateful! Can’t imagine what HER parents were thinking…
Another ‘Anonymous’ shared that she knew a podiatrist named Dr. Payne, and that there was an alarm company in her town called “Falls Security”. Yeah, but say it out loud. See?
Let’s just wrap this up with a note about a dentist’s office we saw on our last road trip. The guy’s name is Spatz. If your dentist still uses a spit sink, you can twist this one into the pluperfect subjunctive, and apply as needed.
So keep those cards and letters coming in, friends! We can always do a phase three if we get enough material. (Uh-oh—that reminds me of the old joke about the graffiti on the bathroom wall in the bus station. It read, “My mother made me a homosexual.” Beneath it, in another hand was written, “If I buy her the yarn, will she make me one, too?” So now the voice of Groucho is in my head saying, “I’ve got enough material to make a three-piece suit.” Say ‘goodnight’, Groucho…”
*Sure, I see the irony here, but thanks for playing.
And P.S. --it's my birthday, and I'm officially older than dirt. Old dirt. Ancient, even. Have a piece of cake!