Tomorrow is the indominable, incomparable Miss Rosie’s birthday, so all y’all get to celebrate with us. Hooray!
When my sister was born, she spent the better part of a week without a name. My parents wanted me to be involved in this process, I guess because I was 11 when she was born, and it would make me feel less like I was being replaced with a new model. Anyway, my dad and I would be driving and we’d see a street sign or convenience store or restaurant containing a woman’s name, and we’d shout out the name to my mom, who was growing weary of our nonsense. I call your attention to the fact that my sister is not named Dixie or Lula or Delta or Candy; I feel like I should have maybe campaigned harder.
Eventually, the names got narrowed down to Rosemary or Joanna. I don’t remember how we got there, but we eventually settled on Rosemary. Sometimes, my sister would feel woeful about how there were no songs about her name (compared to mine), so my mom would sing “Roooosemaaaary I loooove yoouuuuu”. We were both pretty sure she made it up. Then there would be the inevitable comment about how her made up song didn’t have the same ring as Kool and the Gang’s Joanna. The ’80’s were a wild ride.
Years later, we were talking about my mom’s made up Rosemary song, and 3 people spontaneously started singing it. Apparently, not made up. Oops. My bad.
As an adult, my sister doesn’t ask anyone to sing her songs about her name anymore. Or maybe she does, I don’t know. In any case, there are lots of Rosie songs we could sing now. She probably doesn’t want our mom to be singing a few of these; not that our mom wouldn’t. There *is* a F-bomb contest afoot, as you know.
So, friends, let’s raise a glass to Rosie, Queen of Corona.