Our names carry so much. A rose by any other name may
still be a rose, but had Bartholomew been named Butch, he
would have been a different person. These tiny explosions of
consonants and vowels speak of heroes, friends, family, and
an entire ancestral line. We may be more than our name, but
we are never less than it; we can cover it with clothes or
wear it on our back, but it is tattooed forever into our
skin.
First names first. Who were you named for? Tracing
it back, you learn something about your parents. You
discover their favourite aunts and uncles, old school chums,
heroes and heroines from the movies, books, sports, and
arts. You enter the thinking of Mom and Dad and reveal
something of their character. Were they whimsical? "We named
you Jasmine because we were under a trellis of that fragrant
flower when we first kissed." Traditional? "My father was
George, his father was George, and I want my grandson to be
George." Inventive? "Because you are a blend of us, Joe and
Donna, we named you Joeonna. "Boring? "You're Sally because
it was the most popular name at that time." Alliterative?
"We thought Frederick Frederickson flowed nicely." Humorous
(and perhaps a bit cruel)? "With a last name like Kent,
Clark was just too good to resist."
Nicknames. If first names carry the past of our
parents forward to the future - the character they might
wish for us - nicknames speak of our character as it unfolds
over time. We are given our first name by parents, but our
nickname tells who we are in our community of family and
friends, changing through time as our relationships change.
To his mother, he is Jonathan; to his childhood friends,
Johnny; to his colleagues, John; to his drinking buddies,
Johnster; to his wife, John darling. Nicknames speak of
affection (my daughter Kerala became "Ker bear") or ridicule
(my wife, Karen, and her brother, Barclay, were "Carrot and
Broccoli"), and sometimes both at once (Louis Armstrong's
derogatory nickname "Satchelmouth" became the endearing
"Satchmo").
The best nicknames reveal informally what other cultures
practice formally. Native American Jamake Highwater
writes:
One of the most significant features of Indian tribal
custom is the giving of individuated names. Such Indian
names denote personal qualities, heroic exploits, uncommon
abilities, unique physical characteristics, visionary
experiences, and other designations that point specifically
to the singularity of the person being named. . . every
North American Indian is given, in a tribal ceremony, a name
that recognizes his uniqueness.
From that tradition, we find Rolling Thunder, Sitting
Bull, Crazy Horse-names that connect with the natural world.
From another tradition, one of informal initiation, we find
the jazz royalty of Duke, Count, Prez, King, and Lady
Day.
Other people give us nicknames, but we may change our
given names to announce a new identity. Our motivation may
be religious: Richard Alpert became Baba Ram Dass, and
Cassius Clay became Mohammed Ali. We may try to conceal our
identity by dropping the "stein" in Goldstein, or we may
create a popular persona with a new name the way Roy Scherer
Jr. (Rock Hudson), or Annie Mae Bullock (Tina Turner) did.
By changing our name, we take a step out of our given
identity towards our chosen one.
Middle names. An opportunity to preserve a family
name (John Beswick Shultz), a second chance to honour
someone (we named our daughter Talia Jane Goodkin for my
wife's college friend), or a security blanket in case the
first names don't fit (my father, wife, and brother-in-law
all chose to be known by their middle names). Middle names
also help distinguish two people with similar names - John
Smith from John Jacob Jingleheimer Smith.
Last names. To some people, a surname proclaims
ethnic identity and conjures up ancestors. To others, it
tells a very different story . For example,
African-Americans lost their ancestral names when they were
enslaved and renamed by their oppressors, and women often
relinquish their family name when they marry . Bill Bryson
reports in his book, Mother Tongue, that last names in
England were at one time less fixed. When an English poll
tax was passed in 1379, the government required a census of
names. To distinguish one Peter from another, Peter Johnson
(Peter, son of John) and Peter Robertson were created.
Patriarchy was not the only source of surnames.
Some came from occupations: Smith, Carpenter, Miller,
Weaver, Singer, Harper, Cook, Taylor, Shearer, Shepherd,
Hunter; while others came from nicknames: Armstrong,
Whitehead, Richman, Redman.
Place was a significant part of identity in more stable
cultures and gave us names like St. Francis of Assisi,
Hildegard von Bingen, and Leonardo da Vinci. (Nowadays,
"Doug of New Jersey" doesn't have quite the same ring.) Some
surnames refer to a landmark: Wells, Bush, Stone,
Bridges.
Time also enters into the naming process in some
cultures. The Akan people of West Africa mark the day of the
week a child is born - a boy born on Sunday is named Kwasi,
a girl, Akosuwa. In Spain, children are named for the patron
saint of their birth date, either directly (José) or
indirectly (María-José). In Bali, it is the
birth order that counts - Wayan means the first born male,
Made, the second, and so on. (I often wonder what it must be
like to teach there - "Wayan, pay attention!" would bring
half the class to order!)
A journey into names is an exploration of past, present,
and future, as well as a glimpse of family, ancestors,
culture, place, and time. It tells a bit of who we are by
revealing where we came from. By sharing that journey, and
telling our stories, we begin to know each other and feel
known in a special way. The 20 name games presented here can
be the first step on that journey.
|