I like to learn about people's names. Usually there's a story behind our names and we take careful consideration when naming kids, pets, and in my case, stuffed animals.
When I found out I was having Boy #1, I was in a phase of reading the bible every night. One day, the name Isaiah popped out at me and it entered in the running. The next day at church, the sermon was based on the prophet Isaiah. Two days later, I was in the grocery store and I heard a mother scream at her son - named Isaiah. I thought, "How cool is that? Even when his name is being screamed through the store in anger, it still sounds sweet and happy!" So Isaiah it was.
With Boy #2 (don't even ask me how much I wanted a girl), his father suggested naming the baby after an artist. He chose Jackson Pollack and although I loved the name Jackson (it had been a choice of mine with Boy #1), I didn't want to name my child after an alcoholic painter. But Jackson stuck and here we are.
I take issue with parents who give their kids names that will fit with the career the parents want them to have. For example, I've known parents who give their child a beauty queen name, a rock star name, a sports hero name, even a good President of the United States name. The children are usually at odds with their name when they are a "Britney" and they want to go into politics, or a "Norman" who ends up as a dancer.
Today I HAD to inquire about the history behind the chosen names of two girls I saw in Target. Their mother was picking out a birthday card and the girls, about 6 and 8 years old, were playing between the clothing racks. "Justice! Liberty! Come here where I can see you!" Did she just call her kids Liberty and Justice...like the Pledge???
I spied on them for a bit to get a feel for the mom's mental state, and possible offense to a stranger approaching her with a rude question. She seemed cool enough. "Excuse me?" I approached. "I'm a teacher and have a thing for kids' names. Are those your girls' real names?" She smiled a smile that said I've heard this a million times. The mother, who I later found out is named Mary, told me the story. I was taken by surprise first of all, because she was so open to a stranger and secondly, because she stopped what she was doing and engaged in my curiosity.
Mary's grandparents (or maybe it was great-grandparents) were Holocaust survivors. They raised their children and grandchildren to truly appreciate the freedom that the United States allows us. When Mary was pregnant the first time, her grandfather was on his death bed. She told him that she was having a girl and that she wanted him to name her, should he die before he meets the baby. He pondered for five minutes and blurted out, "Liberty. The kid's name is Liberty." Mary and her husband weren't sure this would jive with their personalities and considered making Liberty be the baby's middle name. The grandfather passed away two weeks before the baby was born, and the named her Liberty Promise _____.
When Mary was pregnant with her second girl, her grandmother asked her what she was going to name the baby. "You can't give this kid a normal name now, you know?" Mary asked her grandmother for suggestions. "Justice, Peace, Harmony..." she said. So they settled on Justice.
Mary said that the girls like their names so far but high school could be difficult.
I reassured her that in a world of kids named Apple, Razor, and Inspektor, her daughters will be just fine.
No comments:
Post a Comment