Names

I always rather liked my first name.  Though later, I've found it pretty era-specific--given to girls born between the first performance of J. M. Barrie's Peter Pan in 1904 and the beginning of that fast-food chain in the '80s, I think it was.  But gone, too, it seems, are such tried-and-trues as Donna, Carol, Barbara, Betty to be replaced by girls' names whittled out of surnames.  McKenzie, Tyler, Taylor, Riley.  The '60s and '70s Old Testament names for boys seems to have tamed down a bit.  Zachariah, Jeremiah, Jedediah, Ezekiel.  Instead, some of our 21st century grandchildren are finding themselves with names from a splendid list of both the resurrected old-fashioned and the interesting unusual.  Rosalind, Evelyn, Susannah, Vega, Paikea, Sebastian, Oscar, Theo.

Then there are names mostly found nowadays in England.  Nigel, Reginald, Alistair, Rupert.  Violet, Daisy, Pansy.  And English and Irish names with their own unique pronunciation.  Mark Twain once said, "Names are not always what they seem.  The common Welsh name Bzjxxllwcp is pronounced Jackson."  I've felt a little like that when reading the names Sacheverell and St. John (men).  Siobhan, Sinead, Saoirse, Aoife, and Maebh (women).  (That's Sa-SHEV-er-al and SIN-jin.  Sha-VAN, Shin-AID, SEAR-sha, EE-fa, and MAY-v.)

Casting about for an illustration, I hit on this since it represents that fine girl's name, Viola, and is seasonally appropriate.

Then I've run across some beguiling names.  When in Athens, Patrick Leigh Fermor, the writer-adventurer, fell in love with a Princess Balasha Cantacuzene, a Romanian princess twelve years his senior.  In a moment of reverie, I wondered who I'd be if I had such a name.  For one thing, I'd be taller, slimmer.  I'd wear lots of silk scarves, maybe hats.  I'd live in Europe with a long-haired cat and an exotic chanteur from Paris's bird market.  And, yes, I'd make regular trips to Athens.

Joseph Fiennes who played Shakespeare in Shakespeare in Love is really Joseph Alberic Iscariot Twisleton-Wykeham-Fiennes.  Dirk Bogarde, the (mostly) '50s English actor, was Derek Jules Gaspard Ulric Niven van den Bogaerde.  And the Irish actress who took the name Siobhan McKenna was born Siobhan Giollamhuire Nic Cionnaith.

The longest name I've run across is the name of the last king of Laos, deposed in 1975, Savang or Sisavang Vatthana.  His full name was Samdach Brhat Chao Mavattaha Sri Vitha Lan Xang Hom Khao Phra Rajanachakra Lao Parama Sidha Khattiya Suriya Varman Brhat Maha Sri Savangsa Vadhana.

Some names present problems when none should be present.  For instance, Gandhi is too often misspelled Ghandi.  Santa Fe somehow becomes Sante Fe.  And I've had people ask me if "New England" (which is part of my address) is one word or two.  I want to say it's one just to see what happens.  I mean, would they write "Newhampshire" or "Newyork" or "Newprovidence"?  But I'm polite and say, "Two."

Many years ago when I was working at my typewriter a lot, a family member suggested I take a pen name ... and she would, too.  Mine, she said, would be Cowrie Elounta, hers Mellow Abboobuhkuh.  I wrote them down and stuck them on my bulletin board.  So, who would I be if I were Cowrie Elounta?  I'd invite people over for a glass of white wine and sit out in a garden filled with pots of flowers.  I'd dress in skirts and maybe '50s boleros.  I'd grow my hair long and pin it up off my neck.  I'd make lists of words I liked--tomfoolery, twaddle, marmalade, eggshell, rapscallion, whippersnapper, bespoke clothing.  But ... I'd also live in a sunny climate and procrastinate from writing by weeding my herb garden and taking picnics down to the beach!