Last month this blog turned six years old with over a thousand posts and a respectable readership. Besides remaining married and being a father it's unusual for me to stick with anything. And I have for three reasons. Vivian, Evan, and you. So thanks for sticking by the blog. Here's the text of my first real post.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
What's in a Name?
That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet.
--Bill
Bill is credited with penning the above in 1593 - that's about 10-12 years after the birth of his first child. He'd forgotten what's in a name by then.
Jo
and I are ready for the kid - about as ready as we have ever been for
anything, though everyone tells us you can never be truly ready. Except
that we don't have a name. It all started a few months ago when it
became apparent that a name would be required. We knew we weren't good
at doing this (we named one of our cat's "Crazy" because she was, but
mostly because we couldn't come up with a name).
Jo would suggest
names that popped into her head as we drove along the scenic road to
the Hill Country. Stony silence. Then we borrowed name books from Laura
and tried those. Still nothing. Finally, last Sunday, Jo and I agreed
to meet in a week with a list of Top 10 names. I crammed the book of
names till the wee hours. A few weak scribbles. I'd see Jo pour over her
Mac and I could tell she was working on names. Sunday night came
around, and we compared lists after dinner at Satay with the Shah's.
Nothing.
Not even on the same planet. I only got to "K", so I
have an over-abundance of names starting with that letter (Kane, Kavi,
Kabir, Kedar, Kell, etc...), and the name we are looking for may be just
around the corner in "L". By this point, I expected a certain amount of a
feeling of accomplishment - of feeling that we were getting closer -
proportional to the amount to alphabet we have covered. But that's
simply not the case. Gaah.
If kiddo comes on time, we have room
for three more Sunday lists. If he/she is early, we are even further up
the creek. And there seem to be no paddles in sight. Keep an eye on this
space - something is bound to happen...
The problem appears to
be cultural. In a world of cliched cultural problems, I try to keep mine
to a minimum. Jo and I come from physical worlds thousands of miles
apart. But we don't feel it. We think similar thoughts about a bunch of
important things. We don't have a huge cultural divide. We never have
arguments that end in cultural punting. But not so with names.
I
don't need the kid to have an Indian name. But I do want the kid's name
to mean something. In my list, each name is neatly annotated with it's
origin and meaning (my favorite is Kane - "beautiful" in Welsh, "golden"
in Japanese, and "eastern sky" in Hawaiian - wow!). Jo's names have to
sound right. She really doesn't care a hoot what a name means. All we
need is a name that sounds right and means something deep.
My first cat was named "Socrates" - after the famed Brazilian midfielder, natrually. I wonder where this quest will end up.
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