Jeff Wozer

Among the strangest customs of cabin life is the need to name our cabins. I say strange because none of us ever feel compelled to name our homes or condominiums, but only our cabins. A related quirk, I guess, to how we name boats but not cars. Or to how we name ranches but not farms.

Recently, a friend expressed shock over my cabin's anonymity. Until then I had never found myself reading before the cabin's fieldstone fireplace on a snow-swirling night, or waking on a hushed summer morning amid sun-spackled aspens and ponderosa pines thinking, this would be so much better if only my cabin had a name.

But my friend's chiding ignited curiosity. Even if I don't believe in the cabin-moniker practice, I thought, what, for conversation sake, would I name it?  And besides, it would be a shame to ignore my talent for selecting names. Winston, my former golden retriever, undoubtedly enjoyed his name, for he always responded when I called him.

I referred to the Internet for assistance and found a surprisingly deep pool of cabin-naming articles. 

Several suggested playing off the "fun" idea that you owe money on the cabin or that it removed a sizable chunk from your retirement account. Examples included "Costa-Lotta Lodge," "Poverty Gulch" and "Last Nickel Knoll." In keeping with the spirit of this suggestion I considered names like "Bad 401k Plan Cottage" and "Chapter 11 Hollow," but dismissed both when I was reminded of author Katherine Patterson's belief that, "The name we give to something shapes our attitude to it."

Other articles encouraged playing off your profession with work-related names like "Buck Tooth Ridge" for an orthodontist, or "Frosted Roots" for a hairdresser. Being a comedian/writer I couldn't imagine living in a cabin called "Heckle Hideaway" or "Transitive Verb Manor." I prefer divorcing work from home.

One piece even suggested naming it after something unusual or striking that occurred on the day you moved in. This sounded reasonable. But  after giving it thought, I quickly dismissed this angle as well. "Scratched My Friend's Pick-up Truck Acres" felt lacking in warmth and fondness.  

There were more plausible name-suggestion muses based on surrounding landmarks like a lake or a prominent rock formation, neighboring wildlife and variations on your family name.

Yet even with all of these idea-leads, I could not reach a eureka moment. So out of resignation and  fierce desire for something different I opted for the name "Doug." Or, more formally, "Cabin Doug." The name itself carries no meaning with me. But as favorite writer and famous Michigan-cabin dweller Jim Harrison once mused, "Everything is a good idea at the time."

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