I surprised myself. Mostly by this: Suzanna Dorkeaux had become one of the wisps of Southern family history who every now a then appear in shadowy form on the outskirts of a evening lawn party. My mind . . . it is an odd one.

From the old blog:

So what dork is doing this? O(h)

Some things I skim over and Dorko was one of them; that’s the last name of the new head guy at Lutheran Hospital. Then I saw it again . . . and it registered. Now, I feel for this man, I really do. I know he is a very successful man, and no doubt quite well off financially. I don’t know how old he is or when the term “dork” entered the vernacular, but it is probably not something is is happy about.

Excuse me, I am going to do a Google search. Ah, here it is – a reference to the word: DORK, and here is part of that entry verbatim:

Dork is a term used to describe someone who has unusual interests and is, at times, silly or stupid. A dork can also refer to someone who acts on his own motives without caring about his peers’ opinions. The term occasionally implies stupidity, though perhaps less often than it once did, and it can paradoxically imply an unadmirable (bookish, academic) intelligence, much like the terms “nerd” and “geek.”

. . . The adjectival form of dork is dorky, a word that was mainstream enough by 1971 to appear in a Peanuts comic strip

Oh, that 1971 mainstream reference means he has been dealing with it for some time; maybe it is the reason for his success. I know, I know, it probably represents a proud family – quite possibly of Dutch descent. There is nothing wrong with Dorko as a last name, not really. But, gee, it does kind of take you by surprise in a headline. He could have taken a French bent and changed the spelling to Dorkeaux and moved to Louisiana; heck, that kind of sounds like a name in a novel:

The dew lingered on the vines growing along the edge of the veranda where the morning shade kept the sun’s heat at bay. Mr. Dorkeaux always took his coffee there when weather allowed, often gazing across the lawn that rolled down to the river where Suzanna had first climbed in the boat that eventually spirited her away.

Ever so polite detectives had come and asked questions, left, returned and finally disappeared into the the same river mist that had closed in on the scene all those years ago. Suzanna Dorkeaux had become one of the wisps of Southern family history who every now a then appear in shadowy form on the outskirts of a evening lawn party. It was whispered that her travels – as Mr. Dorkeaux referred to them – had taken her to places where she could find no rest, no peace. And so, she was drawn back to her marriage home – Dorky Park.

Oh, no, no, no, no, nix that idea.

Of course, as I said, Joe Dorko has done well for himself.

Maybe my last name should have been Bozo.