Thought I Could Organize Freedom; How Scandinavian of Me
Julian Sanchez | October 8, 2004, 10:45am
Reader Umung Varma notes a piece in today's New York Times on Denmark's strict rules on baby naming:
At its heart, the Law on Personal Names is designed to protect Denmark's innocents - the children who are undeservedly, some would say cruelly, burdened by preposterous or silly names. It is the state's view that children should not suffer ridicule and abuse because of their parents' lapses in judgment or their misguided attempts to be hip. Denmark, like much of Scandinavia, prizes sameness, not uniqueness, just as it values usefulness, not frivolousness.
So no Apple or Brooklyn, let alone Dweezil or Moon Unit. I decided a long time ago that if I ever had a daughter, I'd name her "Antigone," partly because of that "burden." I like the idea of a name that reminds a child she's unique. Though, of course, that can backfire: A friend who was taking a masters in social work once worked at an urban summer camp where there were three girls named "Unique."
Jake | October 8, 2004, 3:04pm | #
what's in a name.
There's just too many anecdotes here.
First: children will be teased mercilessly no matter what you call them. If it's not their name it'll be something else or nothing. Children are nothing if not creative. I recall friends of mine who agonized for months over an 'uncorruptable' name for their pending new arrival. When they brought the little pink bundle home to introduce her to her older brother they said 'meet your new sister, Amber'.
He, in fine fashion, picks up his best movie Brit accent and says "allo 'Amberger". Any name can be made fun of.
I use neither of my legal names. My first name is my father's first name. He hated it and never used it, but here I am. It's a 'normal' name, but neither of us liked it. Mom picked my middle name from a popular tv show. It too is 'normal' as such things go, but dad didn't like it. SO, from birth, he called me 'Jake' and that stuck. There's just no telling where your name will wind up.
Incidentally, it is no fun when the first sylable of all 3 of your names rhyme. (and yet I survived)
A good friend of mine had his father's surname from birth. His father was, and I quote, "a no good bum" and so when my friend turned 18 he took the simple step of changing his name to something more acceptable (his maternal surname). A simple solution.
My daughter has a relatively uncommon name. I won't say it's 'unique' but it's certainly not Mary or Elizabeth. She was grumpy about that for her early childhood (because she'd have rather had a different, and ultimatley more teaseworthy, unusual name), but when she hit age 10 she found her stride and now wouldn't change her name for anything. So, you never really know.
Finally, names have power. Whether you want a kabalist explaination or a pop psych one, I is my experience that people of a name are also of a type. I've never met a 'Susan' that wasn't a psycho bitch. I've never met an Ian who wasn't brilliant but geeky. Anecdotal sure, but I do take care in picking names. Maybe this is an argument for USING known names. I'm not sure how a son named Angleiron Snowdrift would turn out :)
There is definately a difference between a creative name and a stupid name. Antigone is beautiful and uncommon. Definately creative. Chlymidia (after her aunts Chloe and Termidia) is just stupid- to say nothing of cruel.
However, if we legistated against stupidity we'd need MUCH bigger prisons.
I understand the good intentions (and the roadbuilding that implies) of the law, but still find it an unconscionable intrusion of the government into private life that is none of their business. It's bad enough that the government feels the need to stamp, number, index, brief, debrief and file every newborn. That they feel the need to name them as well is beyond beyond the pale.
Jake(if that *is* my real name ;)
Wirkman Virkkala | October 8, 2004, 3:53pm | #
My nephew was named Jacob. One day my sister went to school to pick up her son. "I'm here to pick up Jacob L-."
The school secretary was perplexed. And then she smiled, exclaiming, "Oh, you mean 'Jake'!"
It turns out that my nephew had entered the new school with the nickname form of his name. He had introduced himself as 'Jake,' and it stuck. He liked it. But he hadn't told his parents! After they learned of his name change, it took them a while to get used to it.
The kid was in grade school. I don't know if he had been teased about "Jacob" or not. Later, I know, he was teased for being overweight and for not playing in sports - by the coaches, too, the crumbums. (Weak joints meant no sports for him. So the teasing by the coaches was quite uncalled-for, and the State should have called them on the carpet. But as we know, sports people are given a great deal of lattitude in our society, even in state-run schools. Especially in state-run schools.)
One can call oneself anything one wants. I once asked a liberal lawyer what she thought the Ninth Amendment meant. "What are the rights retained by the people?" And she quickly gave an example: "The right to call yourself anything you want, provided the naming is done for non-fraudulent reasons."
I was named Timothy. I was, for ages it seemed, called "Timmy." Then "Tim." Because of a typo, for one year I went by the name "Time." Later, in recognition of my Finnish ancestry, I offered "Timo" as a more friendly nickname. Unfortunately, some people pronounce this "Timmo," which is wrong. Recently, my neighbors have been using the preppy nickname "Timmer." Hmmm. A number of people now call me "Mr. Tim," which I kind of like, though I'm not sure why.
When in school, one kid repeatedly taunted me, saying "Tim's got 'tims,'" which I think he believed meant "breasts." I've never found that peculiar usage in any dictionary.
I usually introduce myself as "Timothy." Immediately, if the other person is a man, he will extend his hand for a shake and call me "Tim." If the person I've introduced myself to is a woman, she'll likely repeat my name as given, as "Timothy." Maybe this explains why I like women so much.
So in business situations, where brevity is the soul of the lackwits, I introduce myself as "Tim." Just to save trouble and time. Or Time.
In writing, though, I've almost abandoned that name. Two associations with it give me trouble. The name sounds "meek"' the lost, forlorn quality to it is often recognized by artists. Consider the main character of Ray Bradbury's "Homecoming." The other problem? It derives from words meaning "honoring God." I've thought a name change to "Timoathy" might be more appropriate for me.
I've known a man named "Randy Matter." I once took a credit card from a man named "Dick Short," and the card put the lastname first. I kid you not. I've had to hold a snicker when introduced to a man named Kunz, and he didn't try to pronounce it in the German fashion. Yup, he called himself "Cunts."
Weirdly, a Finnish name in my neck of the woods is "Aho," pronounced "Ah - ho." Easy to make fun of, I suppose, but few did or do. But back east, in Minnesota, my family members with the same name pronounce it with a long A - yielding A-ho'... I always wondered why they didn't pronounce the name correctly, rather than in the vulgar, Americanized tongue.
The names people keep are often as strange as the names people give - or take.
