Calling all blog readers: help save Pimbury

You may have missed the short little story in the NYTimes today (here) announcing the sad fate of Mike Pimbury. It appears that he is the last of the living Pimburies, having never married nor produced offspring. After his demise, the name belongs to history. [And not much of a history at that, since a quick Google revealed few Pimburies of note that could potentially survive in our collective memory. Most of the Pimbury hits are news articles about Mike searching for more Pimburies, as in for instance the piece titled “Y a-t-il un Pimbury dans la salle?” – is there a Pimbury in the room? And so on.]

I have no similar sad story to relate, since my maiden name of  “Lewandowska” is about as ubiquitous in Poland as Smith or Brown are in this country. But simply because I am one of a million or more doesn’t mean that I cannot empathize. And so, I am issuing this appeal: if you are about to marry and are caught in the trap of having to pick a name (his? hers?) and a hyphen will no longer work because two generations before you have made a menace of your now multi-part names already, consider Pimbury. It’s easy, it’s classy, it’s short. Your offspring could be academics (Professor Pimbury) or cheesemakers (Pimbury cheddar) or book publishers (Pimbury Press) – it all sounds good. Maybe not gravediggers (“bury with Pimbury”?), but just about anything else. Give Mike Pimbury hope: keep his name going for a couple more rounds.