Remember the
jingle: “My bologna has a first name,
it’s O S C A R……..” Somehow when
that jingle jumped into my mind the other day, it occurred to me that if
bologna can have a name, certainly my trusty nameless tripod deserves nothing
less. But where to begin?
The latest
outing for “nameless” involved a gale, a rain storm, and the largest container
ship in the world. We drove down to the
water today to watch as the CMA CGM Benjamin Franklin cruised by, filled to the
brim with 18,000 containers on its 1,310’ length. I’ve read that it’s the largest ship to ever
visit a US port and watching it glide by, I believed it. Normally naming a ship involves famous people
and champagne, and is full of ceremony.
It probably doesn’t happen on a remote beach, with wind and rain in your
face, and people standing around watching a big ship go by.
Perhaps naming
a tripod shouldn’t stand on ceremony, but I really think it deserves some
serious consideration. After all, this
tripod, though it was born with the name “Manfrotto” which suggests perhaps an
Italian heritage, has permanently adapted to its American roots. It’s been with me all over the Olympic
Peninsula in Washington, throughout Alaska, down the Alaska Highway from
Anchorage to Sequim, WA, up and down the US west coast, detouring to the Galapagos
and Ecuador, to Maine and the US northeast coast, and to various points in
between. We hardly leave the house
without our trusty tripod in the back seat, in the suitcase, hooked to the
backpack, or in my hot little hands.
Occasionally his cousin, monopod, goes along, but tripod is our go-to
guy, always ready for an adventure. To
say he’s part of the family might be a stretch, but as I sit here, I’m looking
at him standing in the corner of the living room, just waiting for his legs to
be lowered, his head steadied, and to be lifted into whatever container will
get him to where he’s going. As I write,
I realize that tripod must be of the male gender, though how I’ve come to that
conclusion I’m not certain. Instinct, I
guess.
Since tripod
accommodates himself to my spouse’s Nikon cameras, perhaps Nik would work. But then that might be considered biased, and
I have a feeling that, given the chance, he’d be an equal-opportunity tripod. My favorite male name is Sean, meant to be
the name of my first son, except I had a girl, and back then, Sean was not a
girl’s name. Nah!
When we were
dog mushing, I named my two wheel dogs Rough and Ready, and they were
definitely both. Jim’s lead dog was
Churchill, based on his attitude, while mine on occasion was Climber, because
he could climb a fence. Not sure those
work either. My favorite pet was a Saint
Bernard named Curly, but tripod is a bit smaller, lighter, and slimmer than
Curly so no go there.
Seems like
the path of least resistance is to seek out a “T” name, and I begin by
researching the meaning of boy’s names that begin with “t.” There are hundreds of choices but after spending
some otherwise free time reading through many, many names, one stops me in my
tracks when I read the meaning which is “SPEAR OF STRENGTH.” Now how can you top that? When I think of all the mud, sand, dust,
steep hills, deep gorges, running water that tripod has seen me through, I
realize that he truly is a spear of strength, not to mention he’s pretty good at
holding a camera.
So it with
great pleasure that I introduce you to my ever-faithful, always-prepared,
three-legged buddy – TRUMAN!
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