I woke up thinking that I need to send a sympathy card to good friends of my family and when I thought of the daughters’ names, Danielle and Leslie, I realized that both of them have names like kittens yawning in the sun and it let me into a little part of their mother who just passed away, in that she chose these names for her daughters. That got me going about people’s names and how they have always evoked an image in my head, most strongly when I was very young. Just the sound of the name would jam an image onto my mind’s eye and in many cases still hasn’t gone away. What’s odd is that my own name eludes me. I’m like the John Edward of names. So I began thinking about those names and allowed some more to flow. The image of the name has really nothing to do with the person him or herself. Since I am a strange bird I shall share some with you:

Gregory: A boy in blue feet pajamas lying down with his legs doing a bicycle motion on a mattress with no sheets.

Shawn: Petting a big black dog in one long stroke.

Kristin: A delicious yellowish cracker.

Brent: Toast and warm.

Joel: A lollipop with lots of drool on it.

Will: A soft black beard.

Karen: Raisins.

Todd: Ken doll lack of genitalia.

Bart: Smelly breath and old bread.

Susan: Tootsie Roll.

Stan: Comb-over.

Lily: Too much perfume in the moist armpits and a white sleeveless blouse.

Sarah: A tear tattoo under the eye.

Mandy: Jelly shoe.

Laura: A large tongue and brown hair.

Tom: A leathery sole that just lies there.

Kendra: A big Dracula collar.

Dave: A wave of creamy peanut butter.

Tim: Poking the belly.

Timothy: A small cute rabbit with a pink nose.

Maurice: Mysterious.

Frank: Tart and cooked and drawn.

Maya: Wantonly emerging from a tepid pond with flowers.

Jason: Overall buckles.

Connor: Barking baby birds.

Raymond: Nostrils and a strong back.

Pam: A perfectly yellow omelet in the sun. No brown.

Pamela: That omelet cooking, right at the moment when you fold it.

Al: Down home and fun.

Alan: Air Supply on the Jet Stream.

Harold: Curly armpit hair and commanding posture.

Lewis: Good times.

Louie: Good times with dancing.

Jessica: A very delicate egg with a hairline crack.

Tony: A smooth snail shell and perfectly buffed toenails.

Rhonda: An elephant’s foot presses down while a large butt sits simultaneously. Fart horns.

Nathan: Thin meat and flared nostrils.

Stephanie: The toes of velvet mary-janes.

Cheryl: A twisty beehive hairdo and a soft-serve twist in a cone.

Paul: Solemn, dark, and heavy, but not in a bad way. The bearer of difficulty.

Tammy: Drum skins and taffy.

Lorna: Tying a cherry stem with one’s tongue and big curly hair.

Samantha: A sleek shiny black or white cat hopping up on the stairs.

Deanna: Lasso at cocktail parties.

Ben: A bear with a sweet nose.

Howard: The smell of bathroom and newspaper entwined.

Ron: A flattened skull.

Laertes: Bridge over white caps.

Elliot: Robotic milquetoast.

Lance: Lunge forward with your rapier, young man.

Jane: Sweet candy, mostly sour apple jolly ranchers, but sweeter.

Ned: Bald, jerking the head backwards.

Scott: An unruly poof of hair on the head, someone holding another by the neck and making the hair poof more, head-bang style, but only once.

Regina: Glands that are inexplicable.

Some names look like what they represent, like John looks like a clean toilet flushing and Oliver tastes briny. Similarly, Mark looks like a beauty mark above the lip and Isabel is a pretty little brass bell and Harry is hairy. Names consisting of initials elude me, such as TJ, RJ, and the like. Except for CJ, and that’s because Baywatch made it into an image of a big titted red speedo running. That’s why it upsets me when my family calls my three-year-old niece Catherine Jeanne “CJ,” but I can’t quite articulately explain why.

I encourage parents to use my name list. Readings of additional names furnished upon request.