Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,
Recently a friend and I were talking about the crazy names some celebrities give their kids. He said he had heard some really wild names, and he wasn't just talking about the way people say, Can you believe Gwyneth Paltrow named her daughter Apple?
That conversation reminded me that I wanted to write this post -- about how much I love the name Apple.
I was not freaked out when Gwyneth and the guy from Cold Play (he doesn't have a name; he's just the guy from Cold Play who's married to Gwyneth Paltrow) named their daughter Apple. I thought, That's beautiful.
You know how you have certain associations with certain names? I used to have a next door neighbor named Chuck, and it took me a long time to get used to having a brother-in-law named Chuck. Chuck 1 was unbearably creepy. Chuck 2 was a good-looking, nice guy.
But at first I associated Chuck 2 with Chuck 1. Although I grew to like Chuck 2, please Dear Lord, don't let my babies grow up to be cowboys or name my grandchildren Chuck.
Well, I love the name Apple because of the person I associate with said name.
The fruit is O.K. too, but I really loved the person.
When I worked at the nursing home, we had a lady who was batshit crazy. Walk past her and she'd say, for no reason, I'm gonna cut you.
One night a colleague and I were taking care of her and she reached out and grabbed my face with her long fingernails, digging them into my cheeks. You'd be amazed at how strong old ladies are. If my colleague hadn't been there to pry Crazy Lady off of me, she could have done some real damage, other than upsetting me.
Crazy Lady's daughter came in every single evening and checked on her mom quickly. If she found anything lacking in Mom's care, she pointed it out and requested that the problem be solved.
But she never spent more than a few minutes with her mom. Most of her time was spent walking around the floor greeting the other residents and hugging the staff members. This woman absolutely radiated love. I always felt so good after hugging her. She made my evening.
One night a co-worker and I were chatting about how wonderful this woman was. The co-worker was an old-timer who had been in the business for years. He knew everyone's background. He told me that the wonderful woman's mom had killed two of her own children when they were young.
He said she had abused all of her children horribly and the remaining children had been taken from her by the state.
I asked, They why does her daughter come to see her every evening?
Because she is a truly good Christian woman, he said. You know she doesn't spend much time with her mom. She checks on her but doesn't stay with her.
I pondered this and thought about how the daughter didn't just talk the talk; she walked the walk -- and they were in the footsteps of Jesus.
Of course, her name was Apple.
Infinities of love,