In a Name . . .

The English make even the pettiest of fights sound sophisticated and worthy of the time and energy. The question remains . . . what's in a name?

How does the label we smack on a child before it has done a single thing for itself dictate who that person might be(come)? I'll admit - I'm totally guilty of this . . . I believe that a person named Heather WILL be nicer/friendlier than average. I am sure that men named Bob WILL be more handy and tinkery and mechanical than average. I have never met a Stephen (and only one Steven) that was not a little uptight and allergy burdened. I know just one Walker and, frankly, he is as mellow as the mental picture might indicate. I don't agree with Pauly Shore that all women named Lisa are more beautiful (nor with the Beach Boys/David Lee Roth that California Girls are the best). I think Shauns and Shawns got hosed on an otherwise great name. I think Ginnyfurs will spend their lives spelling their first names apologetically. Don't get me started on the kids named after food, animals, tree species, and obscure rock lyrics - because they will be the Ethels, Roses, Irises, and Leopolds of the world three generations from now.

These things, for me, are not "judgments" or "classifications" - I don't think that Heather can only be fun nor that Bob should fix my car or Stephen needs his inhaler before we head out to run errands and I know more attractive Lisas than I do unattractive. One of my favorite people on this planet is a Shawn. And I bet Ginnyfur is patient and gracious and I'll bet every kid on the playground right now that answers to Jaguar will be a great Grandfather when his time comes. Fine, fine, fine.

So what is the point? It is just a name. There is no "weight" to it. There is no "magic" in it. It is far less important to who a kid might be (or who an adult is) than a million other factors and characteristics not least among them a sense of humor about the monikers everyone's answering to all over this crazy, spinning ball.