Did you name your car?

I'm back...

Two. Count 'em: TWO, readers yesterday asked: "What's happened to the Potluck column?"

Answer: I stepped away from inundating you with emails because we were relocating from Florida to Iowa and, in so doing, have revived a limited social life with those who practice strict adherence to CDC Covid guidelines and are vaccinated.

I also felt we needed a break from opinion writing. Before Jan Psaki's first White House press conference, watching and reading the news meant there wasn't time to do anything else but absorb and opine. I love this boring, administration. Those whose careers are tied to ratings might not, but it sure is nice to sleep through the night.

I'm unpacked and ready to roll out ramblings. Thanks to Scott and Charlotte for the nudges.

I have a backlog of musings. Are you still with me?

But first, we'll ease into the cockpit with an essay on naming inanimate objects such as boats, cars, and recreational vehicles.

We do that a lot in our household. I've had cars named Beasley, Green Bean (an old Prius), Milly, Rosey, and now a white VW Beetle named Snowflake in the winter and Lilly in the summer. Beasley even had a short-lived blog. As my first re-entry into the VW Beetle world, this lime-green Bug attended protest rallies in D.C.

We were inspired to name a camper Waldo from the book, “Where’s Waldo?”

Boat names are a particularly rich category for naming rights.

Under the heading Sh*t Richard says: "Make sure the boat name is understandable and not a joke when calling the Coast Guard if you are taking on water."

His point was well-made one night on the Chesapeake Bay when we monitored a frantic May Day call on our VHF radio from the captain of 'Buck Naked.'

“Coast Guard, Coast Guard, this is the motor vessel Buck Naked! “—just doesn’t convey the seriousness of the situation.

We spend time working on boat names.

It took us six days to come up with 'Watt, Me Whirry?' - a little electric-powered boat. Get it? Not many did.

The latest addition to the fleet is a 20' Cherubini runabout, soon to debut on Lake Okoboji. It's a she/he/them.

Cherubini is a boat manufacturer known for its large, gracious sailing yachts. The runabout was built to shuttle passengers from the bigger ship to shore.

An ancestor to the boat building family was Luigi Cherbuni, an 18th century Italian composer best known for his 'Overture in G Major.' So we planned to give this small boat the big name of 'Overture in G.' We thought we were so clever. 'Overture' has various definitions. Gilbert and Gammack both start with 'G,' so that was to be her/his/their's name.

This boat, however, had a different idea.

Our maiden voyage was a problematic 10-mile trek on a windy day, which showed us it could handle heavy chop--a bonding experience with the seaworthy craft. As we eased into its new harbor, Richard dealt with the lines while I was at the helm.

A lone piano note sounded.

Then another.

Nothing melodic. Just a couple of notes from a piano.

The boat does not have a stereo, yet it sounded like a piano onboard.

Bonk. Bink. Bonk.

"It's Luigi," I said to Richard.

Luigi Cherubini was with us that day, celebrating our stewardship of the minor classic. There was simply no other explanation.

Bonk, Bang. Luigi nodded in agreement.

Now, this was downright spooky.

Richard handed me my iPhone that had been in his pocket. Glancing at the screen, an app I had never used was open. It was the musical app Garage Band, opened to a piano keyboard. I have no clue how that app became open. When Richard stood up to handle the boat lines, the jostling in his pocket resulted in random piano notes.

You can't tell me that wasn't Luigi Cherubini reaching out to us from the great beyond.

And that's how our 2011 Cherubini runabout became named: Luigi.

Have you named a car, boat, RV, or tractor or even your first American Flyer sled? Please let me hear from you in the comment section, so I know you're still here.

Richard affixes the lettering on the transom of Luigi