A Rose by any other name

I’m one of those old folks who start the day by reading the local paper. And we’re lucky here in New Orleans that we still have a daily paper – The Advocate. The other long time local paper, the Times Picayune, has gone like so many others to 3 printings a week, which doesn’t work for me.

So this beautiful, clear, and chilly January morning, I’m skipping through the dozens of society page pictures of smiling young women in white dresses holding flowers. This is not only Carnival season where the krewes post pictures of their Queen and her court of princesses and pages (there are a few guys in tuxedos, too), but also it’s debutant season. Don’t ya just love it?

The debs are featured with biographies, including their lineage, colleges attending, and both formal shots and casual ones, often taken under the oak trees in City Park or with their horses. The best part is one of these young women–ages 18-21–is likely chosen Queen of Carnival. The King of Carnival, however, is a white-haired old fart–a businessman, banker, lawyer, or philanthropist-type, but not politicians. Perfect, right? These guys are old enough to be these women’s grandfathers.

All the photographers happy, as well as the dressmakers, hair stylists, makeup specialists, and florists. But what struck me this morning was the variety of first names for the young women and girls–kids as young as 6 or 7 are involved.

We have the usual collection of Marys, Susans, Emilys, and Graces. Yet, I found Carter, Stirling, Everett, Peyton, Marley, and the most amazing name for a beautiful, blonde, young lady–Kingsland!

What the hell were her parents thinking?