The Davids and Daves ...
In a past post, I alluded to the bounty of Davids and Daves in my life.
This morning, I made a list.
The number has shrunk a bit. A Dave attrition of sorts. (Some haven't landed on the list because while I know them, they're not so much a part of my life.)
Still, many Daves remain. For the sake of clarity, each has at least one qualifier. There's:
Dave (aka Music Dave, Composer Dave, or Kurtis Dave). I haven't known him as long as some of the other Daves, but he has achieved Alpha Dave status, and so is usually refered to simply as Dave.
L.A. Dave is a fish out of water on the west coast. By which I mean that he's far too interesting and intellectual to live in such a superficial, vapid place. But as an entertainment journalist, he needs to be where the action is.
English Teacher Dave put me through my paces for a year and a half in high school. He is a delightful balance of quirky and thoughtful, and is, single-handedly, the reason I was able to get through my freshman year of English in college. The most influential teacher of my life. And a good friend to this day.
College Boyfriend David (aka David-With-The-Smile David). Self-explanatory, who he is. Mom gave him his alias. We dated only briefly, but have stuck around in each other's lives ever since.
Gemma's Dave, a good friend's husband, unassuming at first glance, but one of the funniest people you'll ever meet.
Jeannie's David, another good friend's husband, terribly adorable with a British accent, and very smart, which explains his very good choice of Jeannie for a wife.
Cousin Dave who looks like, I kid you not, John Travolta.
Sister-in-law's Brother Dave, who I only see at my sister-in-law's house, mostly, but who is then in the company of other Daves, whom I haven't included on the list because we're not that close.
And then, in making this morning's list, I realized that I have someone in my Palm who's last name is rooted in the Dave tradition: Davies.
But his first name is Iva.
New Neighbor Dave. I was returning from a walk a couple weeks ago and he was cutting his grass so I stopped to introduce myself and stifled a laugh when the revealed his name. I mean, seriously: Every new man in my life is named Dave.
Jon-David aka J-D. My hair architect. Luckily, he goes by J-D. I can't remember the last time I called him Jon-David. I've been going to him forever, so he should hardly be new to the list.
And just because I find it funny: At my mom's church, they've been interviewing for a senior pastor. The junior pastor's name is Dave. The new senior pastor's name is Dave. Clearly, the Dave-itis is spreading.