What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.
Those are the immortal words of William Shakespeare from his classic tragedy ‘Romeo and Juliet’, before you all suddenly gasp and exclaim, “Wow! She really can write after all!”
I started thinking about names this week, after watching a riveting ‘Antiques Roadshow’ that featured, among other things, a Tiffany lamp worth over US$100,000. Time for me to get that stained glass starter kit out and make some moolah.
The item that really caught my attention, however, was a very old powder horn, carved by Abimeleck Uncus.
Holy cow – what a great moniker! I turned to my bestie, Lynne, and announced, “I may now have to have a baby (let’s ignore the limitations of medical science), because – finally – I’ve found the perfect name!”
I know you’re intrigued, so here is more about the man, courtesy of the American Battlefield Trust website:
“After the shots of Lexington and Concord rang out in April 1775, the American Revolution had begun, and Patriot forces began assembling to fight one of the largest military superpowers in the world. One such soldier was Abimeleck Uncus. Born sometime between 1750-1759 near Norwich, Connecticut, Uncus was a Native American who was part of the Mohegan tribe, an Algonquian tribe based in present-day Connecticut.
As Patriot forces laid siege on Boston, he was stationed in Roxbury, Massachusetts, under Colonel Timothy Danielson, and served in the Continental Army’s siege lines. In 1777, he reenlisted for three years of service in the 1st Connecticut Regiment. He was assigned to ‘Indian Duty’, where he was likely assigned to interact with the local Native American tribes to form alliances or procure supplies when his regiment moved from place to place.”
Okay, perhaps I would scrap my idea, as naming my child after a Native American might be seen as cultural appropriation. Plus the fact that I’d be hit with university bills at the ripe old age of 75.
Some names really are unforgettable, or they make a statement. Many celebrities changed theirs for a host of reasons. Maybe they looked better on a billboard, or the new appellations were snappier. I mean, would you have raced to see the latest film starring Archibald Alexander Leach? Possibly … but Cary Grant; well, that’s another story.
Who has a library of albums by Reginald Dwight? You probably have and you didn’t realise it, ‘cos he’s none other than Elton John. Would there have been such a stink about the Super Bowl halftime show if Benito Antonio Martinez Ocasio had taken to the stage? Yup, that’s Bad Bunny. I suppose very few people thought the latter was on his birth certificate. Want to know what it translates to in Spanish? ‘Conejito malo’.
Fantastic.
I admit I was today old when I found out that Bruno Mars was born Peter Hernandez, not to mention the legendary late Kirk Douglas originally being known by Issur Danielovitch. Sure, it’s a mouthful, but pretty memorable. Yet, once you get used to knowing someone by a certain name, it’s odd to think of them with a different one.
Out of interest, I looked up the most popular names for babies in the ‘60s. In the US, dominant choices like Michael, David, John, Lisa, and Mary were all the rage. Michele, Gerard, Alexander, Edward, Nicola and Stephanie showed up on lots of school call sheets in the UK around that time, although I’m sure there were a heap of boys called John, Paul, George and Ringo back then. Well, maybe the first three. And actually, Ringo Starr was born Richard Starkey and Paul McCartney’s first birth name is James.
Remember me at the next pub quiz. What shall you call your team? ‘You Can’t Beat-les’? Dreadful … clearly I’m not great at names, while we’re on the subject.
Speaking of the subject, and going off on a slight tangent, what about nicknames? I would love to know the percentage of people who have gone through their entire lives being hailed by their official designation. I bet it’s a low number.
I started out as Victoria, but then it became Tory-Tops, Vic, Vick, and mainly Vicki. “Victoria!” got reserved for when I’d really been bad as a kid. I don’t think I ever warranted “Victoria Clare!!”, because I didn’t burn the house down.
Nicknames are very par for the course in the UK. I’m sure the Daily Mail has a whole department coming up with those delightful plays on words when reporting on someone. Some nicknames stick, and others don’t.
M’sieur McCartney has been known as Macca for decades, and ex-football sensation Paul Gascoigne is Gazza. There’s a definite embracing of double letters, it seems, when the UK comes up with some nicknames. Here’s one more for ya: Jeremy Clarkson – Jezza.
Other nicknames have absolutely no resemblance to their proper names. Just think of David Evans, aka ‘The Edge’ of U2 and Michael Peter Balzary, bass player of Red Hot Chili Peppers, whom we all know as Flea. Gordon Sumner is a pretty cool name – very ‘Bridgerton’ – but Sting? Now that’s a keeper.
One thing I’ve found curious, yet fascinating, growing up in the Cayman Islands, is how many locals have nicknames that sound like given names, and yet are completely different from what you’d see on their formal ID. And oftentimes, there is no real rhyme or reason for the nickname. They just started being called by it when they were younger, and that was that.
I worked with a woman for years whose born name was Deborah, but everyone called her Patsy. When I asked where it had come from, she just shrugged her shoulders and said she’d always been Patsy since she was a child.
Sure, there are the Richards who become Rickys and the Thomases who become Tommys, but a John Theodore Banks only being known as Fred really keeps things interesting.
Names have become much more diverse than 50 years ago. Melting pots of cultures have spiced up the choices, leading to infinite possibilities. Of course, popular trends and figures of the time have definite influence on some. I have to believe there was one year when kids were called any combination of Swift and Taylor. Hey, you can’t tell me there aren’t a lot of 60-70-year-olds in the phone book with a first name of Elvis … or Presley.
Here’s an irony, at the end of this column: I’ve talked about the different names out there, and nicknames, but trying to find another word – or name, if you will – for ‘name’, really isn’t that easy. The ‘Google’ and ‘thesaurus’ letters on my keyboard are worn down to the nub.
If you read through this again (which I’m sure you do every week anyway, in order to pick up every witticism; every nuance …) you’ll see that I’ve gone with ‘moniker’, ‘designation’, ‘appellations’ (fer cryin’ out loud – isn’t that a mountain range in North Carolina?) and ‘nicknames’. But really, none of them are truly suitable replacements for the word.
A name by any other name …
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