
In my astonishment, I performed a double-take of almost comical magnitude, thereby fumbling my attempt to keep my pinball in play.
"You named your child Thanatos?" I said, a blend of puzzlement and pity coloring the question.
"Yeah," the dad replied, visibly proud of his cleverness. "It means --"
"I know what it means," I interrupted in what I hoped was a neutral voice. "I just hadn't expected to encounter a child with that name."
That shopping mall encounter took place twenty years ago. Apart from his bizarre choice of a name for his son, the young father displayed no visible signs of derangement. The boy was energetic, playful, and outgoing, and obviously loved his father.
Yet I can't help but suspect that under the right conditions today, the child would have been seized by child "protection" bureaucrats, who would consider naming a child after the god of death to be prima facie evidence of parental unsuitability.
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