What is it about seaside resort towns and their universal hankering--from Cape Cod down to Florida's Gulf Coast--to sell us (and we buy 'em!) the gamut of products with our first names on them?
It is as if, all of a sudden (is it the sea air? that jellyfish sting? heat exhaustion? or all that damn rain?), vacationing at the seashore makes a person desire to have the personalized-MADE-IN-CHINA toothbrush. Perhaps "PETE" stumbles bleary-eyed (or drunk) in to the bathroom and repeatedly fails to recall his bristles' color designation? But, today--no offense meant--PETE is a pedestrian moniker in a sea of Paiges, Taylors, Madisons, Tads, and Brittanys that clutters the license plate trees. Ahhh, a newer generation of richer, soap-star sounding names...
Then, there is the perennial coffee mug--should you forget your name before the morning's coffee. (My friend Tracy actually has mugs with names on them, but names that are neither hers nor her husband's. Ha.)
And, in my roving, I always find a variation of the personalized pad and/or note cards. In fact, one year, Santa proved that truly he knew our names when he put some note cards of a seashell motif in my stocking. Dang! was I impressed! And I recently came across a garish orange and yellow pad (très 70s) with the first three letters of my full name--I recall being ecstatic at 8 or 9 years old that they had something with my name on it. (Hell, I'm sure I would have bought the toothbrush if they carried it!)
Finally, don't we all need a zipper pull with our first name embedded in the dolphin's wave? Could be handy when your fingers are nearly frostbitten on Mount Everest? And who does not associate bedroom doorplate "[your name here]'s room" with childhood and seaside sojourns? The ubiquitous mini-license plate with the simulated state motifs, and the pens...Well, names aside, things have not changed all that much at those resort towns.
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