Naming

Logan: Scottish; derived from a place name meaning "little hollow" in Gaelic

I am not sure how many of you know why we named our son Logan, but I thought I would record the story for prosperity. It took us months to come up with a list of boy names. Nothing really struck my fancy, and I think Don was in denial that we would eventually have to choose something. Girl name, no problem. We have a very special one that I picked out a long time ago. As we pondered names and threw them out to one another, Don suggested Logan.

When Don and I traveled cross country together two months after we started dating, we took a northern route. We left in September, and it wasn't unbearably cold until we hit Wyoming. We had planned on traveling across Wyoming and Idaho to visit the Pacific Northwest, but the Grand Tetons altered our course. It was cold in Yellowstone, but certainly still camping weather. When we traveled a bit south to the Tetons the temperature fell below freezing. It was so cold that I crawled our tent and went to sleep in the very early evening. It was the only way to block out my misery, and probably the kindest thing I could do for Don. Our sleeping bags had seen better days and mine was held together with safety pins. The cold had invaded our trip like an unwanted companion who needed to be sent packing.

The next day we discussed our trip plans before we left. Seeing how miserable I was (and smartly considering self-preservation I'm sure), Don suggested that we change course and head south to Arizona by way of Utah. I readily agreed and we were off. We stopped for breakfast in Jackson Hole, saw a tiny corner of Idaho, and headed into Utah. Our whole trip was planned that day, based off an old-ish road atlas. According to the map, Logan, Utah had the nearest campground and looked to be a good place to stop for the night.

When we arrived, the city was so urban compared to where we had previously been that it was disconcerting. But the weather! Oh, the weather was beautiful. When we came upon the perfectly manicured, green lawn campground it was over seventy degrees outside. We pitched the tent, tossed the frisbee around and let the cats out on their leashes. We have wonderful memories of cooking hot dogs over a brick fire pit and listening to music late into the evening. Utah continually amazed us, but nothing compared to our perfect night in Logan.

Now our sweet boy bears the name of our most treasured stop. I think Don made the perfect choice.