tae-bo-ultimate-300“WAIT!!! WAIT!!!! I THINK THERE’S ONE I NEEEEEEEEEED!!!”

We were at the flea market, and the young boy making the request for his mother to just slow down a little, take it easy, while he looked through all the display cases of video games for something…anything…that he might be able to GET…wasn’t one of mine.

That was refreshing.

It wasn’t one of my sons asking for a little time while he looked at the video games or tried to find the perfect robot.

His mother was on the phone…and she put the conversation on pause long enough to yell back at him, “TAEBO!! TAEBO!! COME ON!!!! WE’VE GOT TO GO!!”

The kid’s name was “Taebo”.

That was worth the trip to hear that.


Maaaaaannnnnnnnnnnn…that’s kind of weird.


Of course, we named our little girl “Sparrow”….and from what I’ve seen, that’s kind of unusual. I don’t know too many people named Sparrow.

But “Taebo” is kind of unusual, too. Very memorable….but unusual.

It opens up a whole world of possibilities to realize that you really can name a child just about anything.





You could name a child anything you want.

That’s a lot of power in a parents hands and mouth and brain.

Being able to do it doesn’t make it right. It’s not right to saddle a child with an unusual or strange name.

That’s just not right.

Now if it was a business, we’d do our market research and pick a name accordingly.

We’d be careful if the money was on the line and we were trying to be smart about it.

But when they come to you at the hospital and start filling out all the paperwork, it can be kind of overwhelming.

You might blurt out just about anything when the pressure’s on.

When the pressure’s on, and they ask, “Who is this baby going to be? What did you name this new bundle of joy?” well….

You might yell out, “Whirlpool!!” and then reconsider and shout out something a little more traditional, like..”No! Change that! Whirlpool’s crazy!!! TAEBO!!! TAEBO!!!  I PICK TAEBO!!! Do that one!!! TAEBO!!!”

But nobody ever says, “Tell them what they’ve won, Johnny!!” after you pick a name for the new baby.

It’s not a contest, after all.

The flea market is a crazy place.

It’s probably a better cross-section of all the different kinds of people in a community than you’d get a chance to see anywhere else.

The flea market is full of life.

(And I suspect that it’s probably the place to get some really authentic Mexican food if you’re feeling adventurous.  I don’t need to get a map pointed “south” to be in a place where I can experience another culture.)

And the flea market is probably the one place in the world where I might have a chance of hearing a mother yell back to her little boy to just “hurry up!! We’ve got to go!!! Now!!! We’ve got to go now….”



About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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