It has become increasingly apparent that I am gonna be a dad soon. By May, according to the wife. I think she’s convinced herself, or maybe the internet has, via hocus pocus baby gender guessing games, that it’s gonna be a girl. I’d love a girl, mostly because I think boys are pretty useless (which may be a sign of the kind of boys I grew up and around with).
If it is a girl then it’s going to be Dagny, after Dagny Taggart, the heroine in Atlas Shrugged whom we both admire. We told Jill’s Dad over dinner the other day and he was nothing but praises, even remembering parts of the book that I had forgot. So that’s settled as far as naming a baby girl is concerned.
A boy however would be tricky. I had always wanted, when previously asked, that I’d name my boy kid if I ever had one Ayrton, after Ayrton Senna, a hero of mine since high school when I followed F1 like a hawk. Yes surprise surprise it is not a basketball star but we’ll get to that later. When Senna died in an accident in 94 it was the first time I had actually felt a part of me missing and to this day I still think highly of him.