Folks that live forever (through their names)
Many of us would like to live forever. No one has or will, at least as far as I can tell. But some folks make such a name for themselves while on planet earth that we remember them for generations after their passing. It could because they were extremely good people who sacrificed greatly for others (Gandhi and Mother Teresa types). Or horrifically bad ones (the Hitlers and Charles Mansons among us). Or they may have accomplished great things (Einstein, Salk and Jobs come immediately to mind). But then there are those who have transcended time by having their name affiliated with something quite memorable.
One of the odder things to be forever remembered for is a disease. The most famous of these folks is undoubtedly Lou Gehrig who acquired the illness that bears his name (also known as ALS) at the young age of 36 and was dead just two years later. Lou was one of the greatest baseball players of all time (a Hall of Famer, MVP and Triple Crown winner, a guy who played in 2,130 straight games, and Babe Ruth’s #1 sidekick on the dominant Yankee teams of the 1920’s and 30’s). But he is today perhaps best known for this terrible disease along with his brave and grateful “I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this earth” speech following his diagnosis.
In the more temporary debilitating illness department there’s the great Mexican ruler Montezuma who I expect would be shocked to learn that he has become associated with a massive case of diarrhea after eating food, primarily of the Mexican variety. Somebody apparently decided that “Montezuma’s Revenge” should be his payback for Spain murdering him and 20 Million of his Aztec nation in the bloodiest conflict of the 16th century.
Far more diseases are actually named after the doctor who first identified or described the condition than the first patient. These include, for example, German psychiatrist, Alois Alzheimer; Austrian pediatrician, Hans Asperger; French physician, Geoges Gilles de la Torrette; and American gastroenterologist Burrill Bernard Crohn. (Crohn actually had two other colleagues who co-discovered the illusive intestinal disease but he got the historic nod merely because his name was first alphabetically– the randomness of fame!) But I’m baffled why doctors would want to be known in perpetuity for something that causes pain, suffering and even death to others. I guess it’s the proposition that they’d rather be remembered for something than not remembered at all – like some marketing folks who say that bad publicity is better than no publicity.
And I suppose that’s still better than the legacy of Joseph Guillotine who, as you may have guessed, is credited with inventing the blade contraption that severs a human head from the body. Believe it or not, Guillotine was a doctor who designed the decapitation device as a more humane way to carry out a quicker and less painful execution.
But most folks I gather would rather have their name associated with something a little more upbeat. For example, Teddy Roosevelt, one of our more popular Presidents historically (he routinely ranks 4th behind stalwarts Lincoln, Washington and his fifth cousin, Franklin) will be forever associated with the “teddy bear” that many little kids adore and sleep with every night – all because he purportedly refused to shoot a bear that had been captured on one of his many outdoor adventures helping to establish our amazing National Park System.
Then there’s those people whose names live on in the gastronomic world. Mexican chef and restauranteur Ignacio Anaya (nickname “Nacho”) is credited with inventing the tasty appetizer enjoyed by many at Happy Hours and while watching sporting events. Different stories have emerged as to its origin but the one that I favor involves a group of American servicemen based in Texas who crossed the border late one night for a meal at Nacho’s place. He had only limited provisions available, but didn’t want to turn them away so he improvised and cut up some tortillas, threw on some cheddar cheese and jalepenos and popped it in the oven. Voila! The story would have been even better if his wife had been named Margarita. Oddly, though, she was named Marie Antoinette, undoubtedly after the French Queen who was perhaps the most famous victim of Joseph’s guillotine.
If that weren’t enough everlasting love for Ignacio, the city of Piedras Negras holds a three-day “Nacho Fest” every year around October 21, the “International Day of the Nacho.” And then there’s my musically talented nephew whose rising rock band is bizarrely named “Post Sex Nachos”- I had no idea that was a thing, but the boys sure can play- check them out at: https://postsexnachos.com
Other notable food eponyms include: Caesar Salad (not named, as many surmise, after the Roman dictator Julius, but rather its actual inventor, Caesar Cardini in Tijuana, Mexico no less); Salisbury Steak (named after Dr. James Salisbury, an early nutritionist who promoted his concoction of beef stuffed with stuff and gravy piled on top as “healthy food” back in civil war days); and the generic “Sandwich” (named after John Montagu, the Fourth Earl of Sandwich, who purportedly made the first one – some “salt beef” placed between two pieces of toasted bread).
When it comes to drinks, the most famous one associated with a person’s name undoubtedly belongs to Arnold Palmer, who requested the concoction of tea and lemonade during a golf tournament. Millions have since followed suit. Long after folks forget about his great golfing career (he won 62 PGA tournaments and 7 majors) and that he was the first professional athlete to appreciate the value of the endorsement deal (thanks to his buddy and IMG founder Mark McCormick), I suspect people will still be ordering his drink. Similarly, Shirley Temple is probably better known for the kid’s drink that mimics the look (if not the ingredients) of an adult’s alcoholic libation, than she is for being a child actress superstar and later U.S Ambassador – at least among folks under 60.
As for music, we won’t forget any time soon Belgian musician Adolphe Sax – thanks to the name of his musically magical invention made famous by Charlie Parker, John Coltrane and many other great Jazz musicians.
In the field of fashion (or should I say, bad fashion), Frenchman Jules Leotard stands out – literally. Naturally, he invented the silly-looking, tight-fitting “onesie” worn universally by dancers, gymnasts and wrestlers.
The sports world preserves the legacy of its greatest players and coaches by naming championship trophies and individual awards after them (the Cy Young Award, Lombardy Trophy, Stanley Cup, etc. ). Some unique athletes have even had their athletic feats named after them – the Fosberry flop in high jumping; various “Biles” based on the uncanny gymnastic moves of superstar gymnast Simone; and the Gordie Howe Hat-Trick (a goal, an assist and naturally a fight in the same game). Other sports eponyms have stuck that are less flattering- like the “Mendoza line” in baseball (hitting below .200) and the “Hack-a-Shaq” (fouling a person intentionally in a basketball game because they can’t seem to make a free throw).
But the biggest sports-naming honor has got to be having the team itself named after you. Only one man to my knowledge has ever achieved that high accolade: Paul Brown. The NFL team from Cleveland decided to honor Brown in this fashion as their first coach and co-founder. They even kept the name after he was fired and founded and coached for Ohio-rival Cincinnati. And when the Browns bolted for Baltimore, the city insisted under threat of legal action, that the name remain with Cleveland and used it again when they got a new team four years later. If that weren’t enough recognition for one man, Cincinnati also named their stadium after the guy. (Only Joe Louis and Robert Kennedy currently have that distinction in the U.S., although a few owners have seen fit to attach their own surnames to their stadiums – Busch and Kaufffman Stadium, and Turner, Lambeau and Wrigley Field).
But if you could choose what your name would become synonymous with after your departure from this earth, wouldn’t it be nice to have it be associated with something that actually helped others? Take, for example, Louise Braile, who devised an entire language based on a series of raised dots in different positions to enable blind folks to read. Or Henry Judah Heimlich, who invented the life-saving procedure to dislodge that Salisbury steak stuck in your throat that was blocking off all air supply. The simple thrusting maneuver from behind saved my wife’s life as a child – and undoubtedly thousands of others.
Which brings me to perhaps the biggest blown naming-opportunity in my lifetime. As we all know far too well the entire world has been plagued by various forms of the COVID virus for the past two years (and we appear to be far from being done with it). Fortunately, the world is also blessed with brilliant scientists who came up with a pretty damn good vaccine to minimize its impact. No, it doesn’t prevent folks from ever getting it or transmitting it (especially if you are not fully vaccinated), but it does appear to meaningfully decrease the odds. Its primary benefit, however, is that it greatly reduces the risk of serious health consequences and death for those who get the virus – especially among our most vulnerable citizens. And yet, more than one in four Americans remain completely unvaccinated (and most Americans have not taken advantage of the best vaccination currently available – i.e. two shots + a booster from either Pfizer or Moderna).
In today’s screwed-up America, even a life-saving vaccine is somehow seen as a political issue. Indeed, according to a recent Gallop Poll the vast majority of the folks who refuse to get vaccinated are Republicans (90% of Democrats have had at least one dose). And all of the states with the lowest vaccination rates are Republican-dominated. Many of the refuseniks idolize Donald Trump, a man who ironically not only had a serious case of COVID and nearly died from it, but who himself has since been vaccinated (indeed, triple-vaccinated!). Because the vaccine was developed under Trump’s term of office he could have wrapped his arms around it as being “great,” and even named it the “Trump Vaccine.” Had he done so from the beginning I suspect that a much larger number of his followers (though certainly not all of them) would have gotten it. Literally, thousands of lives could have been saved. And we could have avoided what is increasingly looking like another major potential impact to our economy.
The irony is that no person in my lifetime has cared more about seeing his name prominently displayed or mentioned than Mr. Trump (buildings, hotels, golf courses, a university, an airline, clothing lines, steaks, vodka, board games, media outlets and even a fragrance – do people really want to smell like Trump?) And no one leaps to take credit for something good that happens more than he, regardless of whether he had much to do with it (such as making sure that the government’s stimulus check bore his signature and was accompanied by a letter from him, as if HE personally gave you the $). So, Trump’s decision not to name the vaccine after himself is more than a little surprising. And given that COVID is the third largest cause of death in the U.S. this year, and that many of those deaths were preventable, his rare choice for modesty in this instance was actually a tragedy. (Interestingly, he has recently started publicly promoting the vaccine that “he created,” much to the chagrin and even booing of many of his supporters and the confused delight of the rest of us.)
Finally, I will leave you with what is perhaps the oddest association of a word with a person’s name. It’s one of the most common words used in daily vernacular: “guy” (as in, “he’s a nice guy; “there’s a guy I know,” and “how’s it going guys?) The word apparently derives from a man named Guy Fawkes. Who was Mr. Fawkes and what was his great achievement that warranted preserving his name for posterity as the generic name for half of the population?
Fawkes was an Englishman who became very unhappy with the political state of affairs in 1605. So, naturally, he plotted to blow up the British Parliament. (Very Trumpian of him!) Unlike Trump though, Guy was convicted for his treason and was sentenced to death in the most cruel way imaginable: he was to be drawn backwards by a horse, with his head near the ground; his genitals were to be cut off and burnt before his eyes; his heart was to be removed; his head decapitated; and then the dismembered body parts were to displayed so that they might become “prey for the fowls of the air.” (The Guillotine is sounding pretty good right about now!) Fittingly, both the treasonist act by Fawkes and the punishment meted out by the Judge seems to be something that only a guy would do.
Perhaps, as the new year approaches, this might be a good time to give some thought to the legacy of your own name? Happy New Year all!
