Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, April 5, 1993 TAG: 9304050211
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A5 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
A LABEL FOR LIFE
IT'S A COMMON conversation, one you'll have a number of times during your life. And so I can't remember quite when this one took place.The young couple, flushed with enthusiasm, ripe with hope, were discussing what they'd name their first child.
"We want a strong name," she said, "an old and distinguished name."
"Probably an Old Testament name," he added. "Joshua, Daniel. Maybe Ezekiel."
They paused to ponder their awesome responsibility, their eminent connection with creation.
"Have you considered," someone drawled into the silence, "since you want a strong Old Testament name, have you considered - God?"
Well, of course, naming is an awesome responsibility. A point made beyond dispute in Johnny Cash's seriously silly song "A Boy Named Sue." A point some parents - what in the world was Frank Zappa thinking? - seem willing to ignore.
Virginia's birth certificates, 1912-1939, include the legal names Macaroni, Turnipseed, Money Maker, Alien, Moles and Crystal Sandra Leare. Among, of course, millions of Annes, Jameses, Davids, Marys, Patricias, Andrews, Susans and Robert E. Lees.
Personally, I find the more inventive antique names no more remarkable than our current spate of Heathers, Aprils, Dawns, Brandys, Fords, Ambers and Forrests.
The fact is, names are loaded weapons. Whatever you name your child, you've labeled his or her life. For good or ill. A friend once told me, for instance, that she deeply regretted naming her son "Mike." "He's had to fight and fight," she said, shaking her head, "just because that's what people expect a `Mike' to do."
Maybe her son would have been a fighter anyway. But I think she had a point. Your name contributes to your destiny. I've never met another woman named Monty. Even my copy of "10,000 Baby Names" puts "Monty" in the "Boys' Names" chapter ("a short form of names containing `mont' "). This, in itself, has put some starch in my spine, I think.
Although here in the South, women with men's names aren't all that unusual. No, if you want to talk unusual, legal names aren't where you look.
Just among my old friends and acquaintances are Corky, Pudgy, Skeezix, Red, Slick, Buster, Tootie, Soonie, Brick, Sissy, Pookie, Bambi, Chi-Chi, Dixie, Pulley, Pooh, Dee-Dee and Bumpy.
And you can think of a hundred others not represented on my list: Slim, Junior, Dink, Pickle, Rex, Tot, Honey, Buzzy, Pokey, Boo, Fatty, Bird and Yank, to mention a few.
Looking at these lists, "God" doesn't seem so outrageous an option after all.
Of course, no name is safe from derision. Shirley, for instance. ("Surely, you jest." "Don't call me Shirley!") Any form of "William" can (and probably will be) reduced, sooner or later, to "Wee Willie Winkie." Pity all the Peters and Johns in the world, all the Nans who become "Nannys" and all the "Busy" Beas. Any Huey, Dewey or Louie, any Donald or Mickey or Minnie faces an uphill battle. And weren't there a couple of famous sisters in Texas (last name "Pigg"), Ima and Etta?
I guess we humans can make light of anything. Even something as important, as personal, and as deep as a name.