I keep a list of baby names on my phone for my future children. It’s filled with names I find charming but would undoubtedly get a child bullied, like “Thibedeau” or “Malachai.” But this week, I added a new, deceptively normal option to the roster: James. If I ever have a son, I think, I could name him James. But I would call him Jimmy.
Am I that big of a Jimmy Buffett fan? Of course not. But after my recent trip to the Times Square location of Margaritaville, the restaurant and resort chain named for the island soft rocker’s most popular song, I realized there’s something deeply respectable about the man whose persona of care-free, tropical alcoholism has ballooned into a billion-dollar global brand. It’s precisely the type of fun yet resolute attitude I’d like to impart to a child.
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