The real meaning of the 'name game'

I learned at an early age to be very careful about that. When my cousin was expecting her daughter, someone mentioned "Brooke." I was about 13 at the time and had an intense hatred of Brooke Shields (yes, I was jealous, so what?) and I rolled my eyes and made some typical teenage snotty remark about Brooke as a name.

After being chastised roundly by every single person in the room, I've learned, for the most part, to keep my mouth shut if I don't like a name someone has chosen. (I've also learned to like Brooke Shields, especially after the Tom Cruise smackdown. You go, girl!)

One thing to be careful of, when naming a child, is what that name really means. You may think, in this day and age, that it won't a matter and your child will never know. Forget that. The first thing a kid will do, when he figures out how, is look up his name in baby books, then turn and fix you with a glare of unforgiving disgust.

It was bad enough when I figured out my name whole meant "Bitter Light of Man" when you put the Mary, Elaine and Mannon together. Then I had to go and marry a guy whose last name was Reeves -- which means "tax collector" or "bailiff."

That figures.

My husband's name means "powerful rope-making member of the tax collector's tribe."

Sort of.

Scott, the oldest, looked his up and decided that Scott Amos Reeves meant "God carried the bailiff to Scotland," which he liked, because for years, he thought his middle name meant "My parents really, really want me beaten up on the playground."

His middle name came from his paternal grandfather and his first name fulfilled a promise I'd made back in high school and college, when I had about 10 friends named Scott. I told them all I'd name my first-born son after them... So, Mr. Crone, Nichols, Pratt, Mynatt, Budzien, Pitts, Maus and company (really just Crone) -- you're welcome.

Ben got stuck with a grandfather's name, too, which is even funnier when you find out the grandfather didn't like it, either. Born Ezra Cletus Mannon, my dad went by E.C. or Ed. The meaning, however, fit him to perfection -- "Illustrious helper of man." My mom's was also fitting -- "Lovable light of victorious people."

Ben's name could mean "Helpful Son of the Southern Bailiff," although I prefer "Help the tax collector's son of his old age."

Buzz has the best of the three when it comes to interpretations, which is ironic, considering he doesn't use either his first or middle name at all. A run-in with his dad's razor as a toddler lead to a buzz-cut hairdo, which led to the nickname Buzz. In his real name, Michael means "Who resembles God," and comes from the archangel Michael, and Thaddeus means "God's Gift." I'm not sure where the bailiff or tax collector fits in with that ...

You also have to consider popularity -- and overpopularity -- when considering names. When I was pregnant with the first two boys, we'd picked out Hannah for a name. I love this name, I always will, but I'm glad we had boys, because both of them had at least three Hannahs in their grade level at school. Buzz was going to be Savannah -- same thing happened. What are the odds of two Savannahs in one school, much less one class?

My parents' names were so unusual that they went out of their way to give us ordinary names: Mike, Gail, John, Mary, David ... I guess that's why I wanted the unusual names for my boys, but I believe in moderation. I like a more common first name and an unusual middle name, and later on, they can use whichever one they think suits them best.

I was one of five Marys at our church. Now, I hardly ever see a Mary in the birth announcements. What a shame, that an entire generation of young girls can grow up without hearing "Mary, Mary, quite contrary," or asked where their lambs are, or how their gardens grow ...

-- Mary Reeves is a staff writer for the Times-Gazette. She may be reached at 684-1200 or mreeves@t-g.com.