When they got married, my mom and dad made a deal. She’d name the boys, and he’d name the girls. Well, first up was me, and I spent most of my childhood explaining to other kids that I didn’t have the same first name as the guy on Bonanza (“that’s Lorne Greene – one syllable!”).
Eventually, though, I became aware of a beautiful, classy, talented and spunky woman named Lauren Bacall, who I’m pretty sure strongly influenced my dad’s choice in 1957. Although she died in August 2014, her legacy will undoubtedly live on for generations to come.
In the 70s, model Lauren Hutton came on the scene, bringing the grand total of Laurens in the world (or at least in my corner) to three. But then something strange happened. As the next generation came upon the scene, there was an inexplicable surge in the name’s popularity. Starting in the 80s and still to this day you can’t swing a dead cat and not hit someone named Lauren.
Several years ago I mentioned this strange phenomenon to my dad, and guess what he said?
“I knew it would be popular one day, but do you thank me?”
Better late than never. Thanks, Dad.
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