What's In A Name?

The naming of things, especially things like people, is an awesome power. Adam got to name all the animals (Genesis 2:19-20), no doubt to the eternal chagrin of the duck-billed platypus. The Gospel of John, the most philosophically informed of the New Testament books, likens Christ with the "Word," in Greek, Logos, a term far richer in content than a mere linguistic sign or signifier (and, btw, first used by the Greek philosopher Heraclitus). Fast forward to the opening part of Wittgenstein's Philosophical Investigations where he takes issue with Augustine's account of how language is learned as a child by the naming of things, a process Wittgenstein contended could be done as Augustine described only by someone who was already a fairly advanced user of language.

Some of us give inanimate objects names (my first guitar was named Maggie), but most of us beyond a certain age confine such doings to the naming of pets and, of course, of our children. As Robin Williams once noted that cocaine is God's way of telling you you have too much money, the baby naming business that has emerged in recent years is God's way of telling you you have far too much time (and money) on your hands.

Denise McCombie, 37, a California mother of two who's expecting a daughter this fall, spent $475 to have a numerologist test her favorite name, Leah Marie, to see if it had positive associations. (It did.) This March, one nervous mom-to-be from Illinois listed her 16 favorite names on a tournament bracket and asked friends, family and people she met at baby showers to fill it out. The winner: Anna Irene.

Sean and Dawn Mistretta from Charlotte, N.C., tossed around possibilities for five months before they hired a pair of consultants -- baby-name book authors who draw up lists of suggestions for $50. During a 30-minute conference call with Mrs. Mistretta, 34, a lawyer, and Mr. Mistretta, 35, a securities trader, the consultants discussed names based on their phonetic elements, popularity, and ethnic and linguistic origins -- then sent a 15-page list of possibilities. When their daughter was born in April, the Mistrettas settled on one of the consultants' suggestions -- Ava -- but only after taking one final straw poll of doctors and nurses at the hospital. While her family complimented the choice, Mrs. Mistretta says, "they think we're a little neurotic."

Karen Markovics, 36, who works for the planning department in Orange County, N.C., spent months reading baby books and scouring Web sites before settling on Nicole Josephine. But now, four years later, Mrs. Markovics says she wishes she'd chosen something less trendy -- and has even considered legally changing her daughter's name to Josephine Marie. "I'm having namer's remorse," she says.

Namer's remorse, indeed!

Names do, after all, signify quite a bit, if not about us at least about our parents and sometimes about our ancestors, too. Charles and John are very popular given names in the Ridgely family tree, the former at least because of a couple of prominent (read: rich) Charles's down at its colonial trunk and, for all I know, a few more along its English roots as well. Years ago, a Jewish friend was surprised to learn we named our first child after my still living father, apparently considered bad luck by Jewish tradition. Anglos would never think of naming their baby boys Jesus, a very popular choice in Latino cultures. I like to think of our Bible-Belt, Mexican border wall builders laboring to keep Jesus out of America. A white stand-up comic working before a black audience quipped "I wish I was black so I could name my baby any damned thing I wanted!" In fact, or so I am told, considerable thought and effort goes into finding unique and pleasing names for African American children these days. Apparently, they're not the only ones.

Celebrities, of course, are a factor here. Once upon a time it was de rigeur for Hollywood studios to rename their actors. Hence, Marion Morrison became John Wayne, Leonard Slye became Roy Rogers, Frances Ethel Gumm became Judy Garland and Archibald Leach became Cary Grant. (Michael Keaton also had to change his name, there already being a Michael Douglas in the business.)

Now, by contrast, actors keep their given names and indulge themselves with colorful (read: tasteless) names for their many out-of-wedlock offspring. Back in the 1960s and 70s, long before odd celebrity child names became so trendy, I looked forward to the day when Frank Zappa's daughter Moon Unit and Grace Slick's son god tied the knot. Surely god and Moon Unit Zappa-Slick would have been a couple for the millennium. Of course, back then George Foreman was still a heavyweight boxer and foe of Muhammad Ali (nee Cassius Clay) and not today's multi-millionaire grill-meister and father to George Foreman, George Foreman, George Foreman, George Foreman, George Foreman and, let us not forget, George Foreman. (There is no truth to the rumor his daughters are all named Georgia, though it was probably on his mind.)

Then, too, there are names to be avoided. Germans still shy away from naming their son's Adolf (I'm not sure the same holds in Argentina), and there are any number of old-fashioned names like Bertha, Myrtle and so forth that parents in hopes of grandchildren would probably not opt to give their daughters. Before the rise of the Governator, Arnold was the sort of name destining its bearer to a childhood of playground beatings. Sure, there was golfing legend Arnold Palmer, but Arnold Stang was the better known Arnold of my childhood.

Names are magical, but only because we believe they are. A primitive tribe might worship the Morning Star but curse the Evening Star, unaware that both are Venus. So, too, the thought that the lives of our children are much affected by the names we give them isn't far removed from the notion that, among their other possible perlocutionary functions, words used as names can bless or curse their bearers. Our fate, of course, lies not in our stars or in our names, but, these lyrics aside, in ourselves.