WHAT'S IN A NAME?

On a recent episode of British motoring show Top Gear, outspoken host Jeremy Clarkson conducted an interview with Jay Leno and one of the questions asked by Clarkson was how difficult was it to get President "Obama Barack" on The Tonight Show. Leno was very gracious and didn't correct Clarkson on the gaffe, but when Clarkson realized his mistake, he said something to the effect that, "when you choose your name from Scrabble tiles, you have to expect that".

This really did give me a chuckle, because I've often scratched my own head on hearing some of the unusual monikers floating about these days, and Clarkson summed my feelings up fairly well, all the while excusing me from being the person who is politically incorrect.

It's my fault really, that some of the current baby names sound a bit...unique; after all, our generation grew up in an era of boring (by today's standards at least) Marys, Richards, Bobbys, Cindys, Toms and Johns, but while names such as Demetria, Madisyn, Cadence, T'Keya, Aaliyah, Laquisha and Rylee would have gotten big laughs in my day they, as proper names should, have an origin and a meaning. For example, "Barack" is actually Hebrew in origin, and means "lighting" or "spark", and that seems to sum up Mr President's personality quite well. "Demetria", a personal friend of mine, was given that name to honor a recently deceased uncle "Demetrius", which in turn is the masculine version of "Greek goddess of the Earth", and that's nothing to throw stones at. Even scrabble-tile contender "Aaliyah" is Arabic in origin and means "sublime", and I've been called much worse than sublime in my lifetime, I can tell you.

Where it all goes wrong though, are when parents who, through some form of temporary madness, saddle their offspring with names such as, Tiger Lily, Heavenly, Moonbeam, NyQuell (named after an over-the-counter flu medication, no doubt), and Jawschwa, to name but a few. Do parents realize saddling offspring with such silliness is the verbal equivalent of a "kick me" sign? The worst name I've heard by miles comes from a story told by a maternity room nurse, who, along with her colleagues, tried to persuade a young mother-to-be that "Sh'taid" was not the best idea for a name for her daughter. I don't know if the persuasion worked, but if not, my heart goes out to the little girl, who will be forever taunted for having a name resembling "fecal-skull".

At the end of the day though, I shouldn't be so smug. While my own given name, "Julia" is noble in history (it was the name given to all women in the Julian family of ancient Rome) it's actual meaning, and that of my nick-name "Julie", is "down-bearded youth".

Thanks, Mom.

WHEN IRISH EYES WERE SMILING

On Wednesday, March 17, I was sitting comfortably at home watching 42nd Street for the 103rd time when a television blurb reminded me that this day was the most sainted of Holidays for the Irish, beer drinkers and/or both, St Patrick's Day. This made me bit nostalgic, because in my younger days, I was a "regular" at two prominent Irish pubs in Washington DC, The Dubliner, and Kelly's Irish Times, and most St Patrick's Day holidays would find me and the other regulars huddled in a corner waiting for the lightweights to clear off and let us elbow our way to the bar for a cold bevvie.

Being a regular patron of "The Dub" and Kelly's was great fun for me at that age. I was never comfortable socializing with others, and, although I could talk a good game even then, I was so painfully lacking in self confidence, I seldom spoke to anyone, and didn't expect anyone to want to speak with me. But as I discovered (to my great surprise, if I'm honest), in the warmth of a pub, you're equal to everyone provided you have a love of authentic Irish music and equal love of Guinness or a good lager.

Pubs are truly the great equalizer. A traditional Irish or English "Public House", was exactly that; an actual house, with a section specifically delegated for the purpose of consuming alcoholic beverages. It was the "home" you could go to, talk to people whose path you may never cross, interact with those above and below your own social strata, and , for a short time anyway, behave as equals until the dreaded call of "last orders" was sounded.

And, so being a Dubliner/Times pub-goer was for me, a great equalizer. For the first time, I was surrounded by attorneys, political aides, lobbyists, journalists, Congressional aides, reporters (did I mention these establishments are on Capitol Hill?) and a rather odd assortment of eclectic characters, and to my utter surprise, they didn't particular care if I didn't go to an accredited university, drive a nice car or dress in the latest fashion. With that caliber of mental weight serving as the main customer base, it was what you had to say that made you stand out in the crowd, and being able to hold your own with some impressive thinkers earned you "regular" status. Being a pub though, it wasn't all business and politics; the drinks flowed, the authentic, live bands played from the tiny stage and there was plenty of governmental-gossip and romantic drama to go 'round, but for me at least, it was a liberating experience. After all, where else can you regularly go in relative safety and security to experience a microcosm of society, have a good chat, enjoy a few pints, and then go home unencumbered to the comfort of your own surroundings? For me, when I was in my early 20's the answer was: nowhere else.

The Dubliner and Kelly's Irish Times are still standing. The Dubliner is much more upscale than when I was a regular patron; it is now connected to the very impressive Phoenix Park Hotel, which was once a very run-down establishment called The Hotel Commodore. Kelly's Irish Times is also, to my surprise, still standing; always a little "shabbier" (but just as welcoming) than it's next-door neighbor, I understand it now caters more to the college crowd than serving as a still-crowded alternative when The Dubliner got too busy or too loud for tolerance. I haven't been in either place for years now but I think I'll make a return trip soon. Even though none of the "regulars" from my day will be there, I'm sure the food's still as good, the beer's still as cold and the atmosphere's still as warm and unchanged as then. Simplicity never changes. Erin Go Bragh.

ARE WE INFANITLIZING TODAY'S YOUTH?

A few weeks back, I got into a discussion about the current state of the economy with a third-year college student who has been earning extra income in the office, and he asked for my opinion on the outcome of this fiscal mess based on my experience (read: advancing years). I answered that I thought that for quite a few folk, the money crisis would not get better but, eventually, the economy would experience a slow recovery. Not being an economist, it wasn't a very enlightening discussion on my part, but it picked up a bit when I remarked, "the question is, who will be left standing?". This struck a chord in him because he remarked how many people in his age group he knew were totally unprepared for the tough times that lay ahead because they have never held down a job.

Now, at the risk of sounding like the grandparent everyone has had ("when I was your age"...), I think the young man is correct. I look around and see what seems to be an entire generation of young people who have never known anything but prosperity, whose parents strive to give them material possessions and spending money, without making any attempt toward educating them on the simple economic theory of quid pro quo.

For example, let's take the children of the partners in the business where I'm currently employed. All of the children go to private schools (tuition ranging from $6,000-12,000 annually), and don't understand public transportation because they are chauffeured to and from school and extra-curricular activities (of which there are many) by parents, grandparents and parents-of-friends. Need supplies for a school project? Not to worry; text your father at the office and tell him he needs to pick them up from the store on his way home. None of the children have come within smelling-distance of any type of work (including something as basic as baby-sitting, the staple of young-girl-employment in my day...), but they all have more video devices, computers, cell phones and pocket money than me and both my two jobs can afford. As easy as it would be for me to blame the parents, that wouldn't be entirely fair because they also came of age in a time of relative prosperity and financial stability, and I suppose they're only carrying on with a lifestyle of which they themselves are accustomed.

Maybe it's just me, but it seems that our generation was raised a bit differently than that. While we were never denied any of the basics, we were taught to be productive, self-sufficient individuals capable of sustaining our own lifestyles. Practically everyone in my peer group had a part-time job while in school; even the more affluent kids worked in their family's businesses. With the exception of one or two "rebels" pregnancy was out-of-the question for any high school girl because it was taken as read that the baby would not be taken home and given to our mothers to raise. Material possessions were given as gifts, not as an expected part of adolescence, and anything we wanted other than that was something to be worked for and earned. With that kind of upbringing, it was easy to transition into the economic realities of adulthood, because we became accustomed to dealing with economic uncertainty while in our youth, and still in the bosom of our parents.

So, who will be left standing at the end of this economic mess? As in all previous economic messes the answer is the same. The strong, resilient, adaptable and those prepared to make the necessary sacrifices will emerge relatively unscathed. Unfortunately, that leaves much of today's youth out of the equation because, sadly, no one has told them it's time to grow up.

"IF I WERE A RICH MAN...."

In todays uncertain economic times, there are more people playing the lottery than ever before. I didn't arrive at this sweeping statement by doing any specific market research or polling; I know it's a fact just by visiting my local convenience store where, while waiting to purchase a bag of chips and a soda, I always seem to wind up in a long line of eager and very serious lotto players with cash on hand waiting to buy that elusive ticket to riches.

As you may guess, I'm not really a lotto type of gal; I've played the odd scratch card (and won a few dollars) from time-to-time, but I don't take it very seriously. After all, like any other form of gambling it's a game of chance, and based on the behavior of some lotto-playing friends of mine, just as addictive as the ponies.

What I do have in common with lotto players (and, probably most of the population, come to think of it) is wondering, what would I do with a few million bucks? I was reminded of that question yesterday waiting in line at said convenience store listening to two men talking about what kind of super car, ski condo, speed boat and trophy wife they'd get if they Struck It Rich. Their big plans for the cash-rich future made me feel a bit inadequate because if truth be told, in all my fantasy scenarios of richness, I always imagine myself to be very practical with my money.

For example, in Huggins' World, that "super car" would be a brand new Smart-for-Two (Google it folks, you'll giggle, trust me) with all the optional extras in black and grey with a manual gear box. Being practical of course, I'd put a few bucks aside to have the twelve year old Subaru maintained properly so I can still get about in the event of a big snowstorm or larger than average grocery shopping. Redecorating my house to bring it more in line with the 21st century would be my equivalent of their "ski condo"; new kitchen and bathroom fixtures, and a professionally decorated interior is my dream, and if I'm dreaming big, I imagine buying the smaller unit next door, combining the two units and having a home office and "library". No buying a posh new condominium for me; "stick to what you know" is my policy. I decided I would lay out a considerable number of dollars on a new wardrobe which would justify the extra living space since, at last, I'd have a place to hang all my clothes. I don't see spending much of my money on any fancy jewelry in my wardrobe dreams because I'd most likely lose the gems down the elevator shaft or drop them down a storm grate.

Once all this luxury is paid for (full, and in cash...), I figure I'd still have a tidy sum left over so my next dream would be to "retire". Not full time, mind you, just the 40-hour a week job. I'd still work, but for a change I'd be able to work because I want to work, not because I have to. Since I'd still be working, there would be no need for the power boat that the convenience store customers talked about; I wouldn't have time or inclination to have one and besides, with all my money, I could just rent one for a day if I fancied it. As for their "trophy wife" dream? Frankly, I don't see a "trophy husband" in my rich-woman future because, let's face it, I know he'd only be after my money.

So, in my fantasy world of riches, I'd have a Smart Car, an updated and expanded condominium, a fully maintained twelve year old Subaru, a new wardrobe, and the luxury of working a job I liked. Whatever cash was left over I would, as practicality demands, invest it prudently for the future. It reads as if I'm a bit dull, a bit boring, a bit too practical perhaps but think what you like, I'd still be rich.