When done hastily and, perhaps inebriated, it is a lesson in buffoonery.
Take, for example, the case of a New Zealand couple that temporarily lost custody of their sanity and, more importantly, their daughter, because they named her, “Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii.”
The artist formerly known as Talula is now back with her parents, who somehow dodged a child abuse resulting from stupidity charge, and she has a new name, “Sally Jean Shucks Corn from Nebraska.”
This is an extreme case. Most parents, excluding the Zappa family, exercise discretion in what they name their children. Most understand the tightrope walked in deciding a name. You want a strong name but maybe Proximo is a little too strong. You want a unique name but maybe Pumpkin Butter Drizzle sounds like a Rachael Ray recipe.
You also want to come up with a name that sounds successful. If you have aspirations of your child being a doctor, you don’t name them Cleon. Unless you live in the South, then you skip the medical degree and name the kid Dr. Cleon. If you think your kid might one day inherit a small fortune and be able to run for president, then you’ve got to give them a fitting name, not unlike John or Barack.
It’s fine for a Bernie to sell me a used car. I’m not sure if I want him selling an economic stimulus package to Congress. How seriously are other countries going to take us when President Roscoe Lee Jenkins III says, “We going to war.”
I think even envisioning a president named Kevin is a stretch. Lucky for you, there’s six more years until I can officially declare my candidacy.
My wife and I have agonized over a name for our second child. The difficulty is a bit of a surprise. The first child’s name came to us quickly, rolled right off the tongue. Maybe we expected similar luck this time around.
Instead, we’ve spent lengthy discussions batting around an endless list of names, with much of it to no avail. We’ve even thought about waiting until birth, looking in those eyes and letting this child tell us its name. The fear, of course, being that our child’s name actually looks like a theatre stage direction – Baby Cries.
The process, much like investing in airline stocks, can be over thought.
If you look at it as just a name (even though it’s clearly so much more) then perhaps the enormity of the job you have will escape you. This can be a blessing unless you’re stuck between Mallory and Moonbeam. May I suggest a middle ground with Moonory?
But if you start thinking about job resumes, newspaper bylines (a personal fave) and office nameplates, it becomes scary. There are few things that you get to bestow upon someone they will have for the rest of their life. Even the latest bad haircut I got will eventually go away.
But a name, good, bad or just plain hideous (provided it isn’t so bad that the courts have to legally mandate it be changed) sticks with you forever.
Even, after you’re dead, people can still come to your tombstone and ponder who would name their kid “Rootie Tutti Fresh and Fruity?”
Come to think of it, that has a nice ring to it.
