I attended a seminar with historical fiction author C. C. Humphreys this past week, a talk on words. Humphreys noted the passage in Genesis 2:19, where God gave Adam the power to name things — animals, birds, cattle — because God thought man should not be alone. It made me think of the power of names, and how carefully my husband and I chose the names of our children. We even obsessed over the initials, to be sure not to screw that up. (If we named a baby girl Hilary Ann, for example, her initials would be HAG.)
Just today, I came across the following passage in my German Wie Geht’s? text book:
“In Germany, parents must get local government approval for the name they choose for their child. The reason for this is to prevent children from having names that might cause them embarrassment or cause others confusion. The name chosen must be perceived as a ‘real’ name and the gender must be recognizable.”
Hmm. I wonder how long this has been the case. At first glance, the practice seems invasive of one’s privacy. On the other hand, there are some admittedly screwball names in the States (I’m not kidding — check out this Name Nerds! site if you don’t believe me.) My father was especially concerned about given names, determined to choose for his children names that could not be turned into a nickname, let alone something demeaning. He named me Claire Anne thinking he’d found something safe. However, my friend Robin could not pronounce Claire Anne, so she called me Cran Cran, a name which everyone used throughout my elementary days. It was no small effort, retraining everyone when I got old enough to care. Ah, as Burns said:
The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men,
Gang aft agley
which my mother simplified and quoted often:
The best laid plans often go awry.