Classic Classic: The Sub-Categories

I've identified two sub-categories of Classic Classic. The "Elastic Classic Classic" and the "Also Rans".

There is a certain kind of name that has two or more variations all of which have enjoyed great popularity but not necessarily at the same time. Bounces in popularity from one form to another can usually be accounted for by the name fashions of the time. The important thing is that the name, in some form, has remained in near constant and regular use for a long time but with no one variation being able to claim itself a Classic Classic. The category does not include boys names as no male name fits the criteria.

Here are the Elastic Classic Classics:

• Juliana/Julia/Julie
• Anna/Ann(e)
• Christian/Christiana/Christina/Christine

The Also Rans are names that would have made the Classic Classic list but for falling out of regular usage for some short, but not totally insignificant, period of time. Many of these names are experiencing a current loss of favor but have been otherwise immensely popular throughout history. Some have been popular for much of the current era but experienced a lull in some previous time. Even during their lulls these names continued to be used albeit quietly.

Here are the Also Rans:

• Rachel
• Laura
• Rebecca
• Alice
• Margaret
• Eleanor
• Emma
• Victoria
• Lucia/Lucy
• Isabella
• Grace
  

• Andrew
• Daniel
• David
• Edward
• Henry
  
• George
• Charles
• Matthew
• Paul
• George
• Richard
• Adam
• Alexander

There are more classic names for boys than for girls in all sub-categories. This is because naming trends for girls tend to change more frequently and people are more creative when naming girls. There seems to be less pressure to give girls family names freeing people to use less traditional names.

Feeling at liberty to exercise some creativity is great but its a far different thing than taking liberties while naming a girl. Feeling at liberty = Daisy. Taking liberties = Misty (or Mysteigh as it would likely be spelled today). Unfortunately, there's a school of thought that teaches that while boys need names that sound masculine and traditional and respectable, when it comes to girls you can use any thing that strikes you no matter how childish, silly or unsophisticated. But that's another entry.

The Classic Classics

I wanted to do an entry about the "Possible New Classics" which are names that seemed like they were part of a hot trend but may be able to make the leap to being a "New Classic". However, before I addressed the topic of the Possible New Classics I had to deal with the issue of the "Classic Classics". These are names that have remained enormouosly popular for a long time. How long? I don't know. Long. Since at least medieval times but let's not ruin this by getting too attached to numbers. They are names you find time and again used for royalty of yore as well as for biblical and other important literary and historical figures.

In order to be a Classic Classic a name has to be more than old. Something about Classic Classic names keep them from feeling dated which means that a name may be classical and yet not qualify as a Classic. Irene, for example, is a classical name but definitely feels a little musty (which actually makes it perfect for a modern child but that's another entry). The Classic Classics may not cause your pulse to race with excitement but rarely will they invite negative feelings based solely on the name alone (names cannot be held responsible for any personal associations you may have with them).

If these names were an item of clothing they'd be a white shirt; not flashy but always appropriate; not a runway showstopper but always in style. Another defining characteristic is that you probably know of several people in every age group with these names.

So, here is my list of the Classic Classic Names. It does not account for the many spelling variations that exist for each name:

• Sarah
  
• Elizabeth
• Catherine*
• Mary

• James
• John
• William
• Thomas
• Robert

You could argue in favor of a lot of names that aren't on this list but I think that based on my criteria these are the only ones that have transcended time without ever falling out favor. Henry, for instance, certainly has been used repeatedly for royalty and has been attached to any number of literary characters, sports figures, actors, heads of state etc. Henry, however, fell very much of out favor in the middle portion of the 20th century and is only recently experiencing a bit of a revival.

But I'll field any arguments in favor of other names that you feel deserve a spot on this list. Usage is usually confined to the English speaking world.

Popularity of names in the modern era were taken from the Social Security Administration's web site which lists popularity charts of names by decade.

*Catherine on its own often looks deceptively low (too low to be considered "enormously" popular though still high enough to be considered popular) on some popularity lists of the modern era. However, if you combine it with Katherine and Kathryn the name shoots up...usually to the top 10.

The Case Against Junior: Part II or The Case Against Junior, Jr.

The father of Courteney Cox of "Friends" fame is Richard Cox. Richard. Cox. Okay. Not his fault. Sometimes in this life you draw the short straw.

But what could possibly explain Courteney Cox having a brother named Richard Cox?

Nothing but hubris and pure, uncut stubborn. Say what you will about Richard Cox, Sr. but this is a guy who was clearly very firm rigid well, he stood up for his beliefs er, he was a man who believed in stuff and kept believing in them even in the face of certain ridicule.

The very fact that I am ridiculing a man that was very possibly a wonderful person...probably a million and one times better than I could ever hope to be...is my attempt to further prove that it doesn't pay to be overly prideful when naming our children.

I can hear the reasons, "Its not like we'll ever call him Dick!" I'm sure the same thing was said by the adoring parents of Richard Hunt from my school days. But no matter how many times the diminutive Master Hunt quietly suggested that he preferred to be called "Ricky" the kids refused to comply. Some kids are like that. Especially the ones that are kids.

"We can't make decisions based on the juvenile behavior of others." Noble but then its always easy to be noble when someone else has to bear the burden of our cause.

"Its tradition and we are strong! We're the Family Cox! We can take a lic We can perservere. Its what we do."

I'm all for tradition. I even observe a few traditions of my own. But not at any cost and not at the cost of my child's self-esteem. Because, even with a name that doesn't invite teasing, life is "nasty, brutish and short". Life will test them and give them obstacles to overcome without my help. Isn't part of our job as parents to help smooth the way for our children? I'm not saying we should get down and iron the road so its completely flat but maybe just not throw bits of broken glass down onto the path. And then hide their shoes. Just saying.

If, in your own childhood, you had fallen out of tree in such a way that it caused your nose to take a wicked dog-leg left that led the other kids to call you names and just generally poke fun...and if you managed to overcome that and live a happy and fulfilling life...would you then look at your infant son and say, "Son, I love you. I want you to be all that you can be. My horribly disfigured nose made me the man I am today. The kind of man I want you to be. So, you're probably not going to like this but just hold still while I..."

No. You wouldn't do that.

But Richard Cox, Sr. might.

Whatever the surname, Richard Sr. and Richard Jr. present a troubling twist on the problems of Jr. addressed in my last post. Old Dick and Young Dick? Big Dick and Little Dick?

I knew a man named Dick Skinner. This is a real story and not an urban legend like Ura Hogg (though there was an Ima Hogg), or Nosmo King or Placenta. I had a feeling that this might not be as uncommon a name as I would hope it to be so I (foolishly, very foolishly) googled the name.

I don't recommend doing that.

The Case Against Junior

I'm not a fan of Junior. Here's why:

1) Two people, one house, one name. Confusing. There are plenty of names to go around. They're completely free so there's no need to economize.

2) Two people, one house, one name. Nicknames! Big Jim and Little Jim. Old Susan and Young Susan. You want to be big and old or little and young? You pick.

3) Great expectations. He will be just like me only smaller. Or better. Or never quite as good. Or never quite as rich. Or handsome. Or smart. He'll be just like me but he won't make the mistakes I made because I'll make sure he doesn't. Or else.

4) This is my son, Junior. This is my other son, What's-His-Face.

5) This is my son, Junior. This is my daughter, the Girl.

6) This is my son, Junior. I wanted to name him something else but there was a lot of pressure to name him Junior. Maybe I'll have another son someday and I'll be able to give him a name I like.

I have ranted on message board upon message board about these very things for years. Years. Ranted. So, that being said. What did I do? I, Suzanne, named my youngest daughter...wait for it...Susannah.

No, I really did.

It really didn't have anything to do with my name being Suzanne. That is, I didn't name her that to honor myself in any way. Which is not to say that I didn't realize that Suzanne and Susannah are variations on a theme. I obviously knew that and I did give it a lot of thought before finally greenlighting the name for which Rick and the kids were campaigning. Would it bother me if people thought I was naming her Suzanne, Jr? Yeah, probably. How much? Just a little.

Still, even though I didn't actually name her after me I don't think it would be very self aware to suggest that her name being a variant of mine is just a coincidence. Surely some deep and secret desire to have a namesake didn't factor somewhere into the decision.

And, my brother and sister-in-law are about to bring an 8th generation William G into the world. The G changes. Some of these William G's have gone by Will. Some by their middle name. Some, like my brother, by an unrelated nickname. I should be opposed (from an abstract perspective and not from a having-any-say-in-the-matter perspective, natch) to their choice of William G based on the reasons stated above but I'm not. I think its nice. I love that they are going to call him Will; a return to a nickname of 4 generations ago. I like that they aren't using the same G that's been used for the past 3 generations.

Am I a hypocrite then? A scofflaw making a mockery of my own self-imposed rules of naming?

Ralph Waldo Emerson wouldn't think so. He tells us in one of his many famous quotes, "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of litte minds". Of course, this sounds to me to be an awful lot like moral relativism but...that's a different blog altogether.

And Ralph Waldo Emerson? Son of Rebecca Waldo Emerson? His four children? Waldo, Ellen, Edith and Edward Waldo.

You Don't Need Double Talk, You Need...

to watch this clip.




This was followed by the funniest thing ever said on television:

"We're not here to talk nonsense to Bob Loblaw."

Peanut Allergies are Not Funny

I know that. I do.

But when I took Henry to soccer tonight I walked by the lunch tables at the school where he practices and there were two tables upon which the phrase "NUT-FREE TABLE" was written boldy and frequently. There wasn't a better name for that table? Maybe, "SAFE TABLE"? I'm guessing that no one actually thought of the slightly more humiliating "NO-NUTS TABLE" or they would have gone with that.

If you're a 10-year old boy with a peanut allergy do you really need the additional burden of being one of the "No-Nuts"? I keep thinking that some poor kid is risking anaphylaxis everyday just to avoid having to sit at that table. Shrinking into himself in an attempt to disappear when the cafeteria monitor shouts out, "Are all of the NUT-FREE students at the proper table?"

Maybe I'm not giving today's youth the benefit of the doubt. I suppose its possible that kids today are more tolerant of the differences among them and they could be more sympathetic to their peers than were the children of my generation but I don't buy it.

For one thing, I know their parents.

I went to school with them.

I had just turned six when my grandparents gifted me with an adorable 6-week old kitten. I can only imagine my expression as the answer to a year's worth of prayers was lifted from my grandmother's handbag. I know that my parents faces were ashen and their voices tight and abnormally high pitched as they expressed words of delight to absolutely no one who was convinced.

We weren't even listening, really, my grandparents, my brother and I. We were busy cooing and fawning over the tiny fur baby. There were saucers of milk to fetch and balls of yarn to send pinballing around the living room.

And there had to be a name.

I gave it some thought and after a day decided upon Butterscotch because the kitten had one butterscotch paw. My father had a particular distaste for butterscotch and suggested Isis. I liked that name because I was a fan of the Saturday morning show about a girl superhero by the same name. That's how a 6-week old farm kitten ended up with the rather lofty and imperious name of Isis.

If you name a kitten after an Egyptian fertility goddess and then don't bother to have her spayed do you really have any right to be angry when the cat runs off for three days and then comes home pregnant? Probably not. But anger isn't based in logic.

Isis did not live a long and happy life, I'm sorry to say. She was the bane of my parents' existence during her short time on Earth; the victim of family politics and unhappy childhoods left unresolved. She was at times the only friend I had in the world and at times the catalyst (I know) for interactions that left indelible scars on my psyche. Her impact on me was such that, in the end, she had more than grown into her name.

Just before turning 21, I moved out of my parents home (again) and into an apartment with a woman whom I had only recently met at work. Her boyfriend was allergic to cats and even though he lived far away and never visited the apartment, cats were out of the question. I really wanted a cat but I was young and nervous about being on my own and Roommate was older and wise and made me feel safer. Not having a cat was a small price to pay for the comfort she provided.

Her relationship was tumultuous on its best day and the break-ups were frequent and loud (at least on her end) and never stuck for long. But I knew it was finally over on the evening when she emerged from her room with her arms crossed over her chest in a protective posture and said, "You can get a cat now."

I didn't have a name in mind when I brought the orange and white tabby back to the apartment. Roommate and I watched this kitten leave the comfort of my lap to explore the small space with extreme caution only to quickly return to me and eventually fall into a peaceful sleep. I thought of quiet, sweet names. Tabitha, like the kitten from Beatrix Potter, was the front-runner.

Later that evening, Roommate and I sat in the living room watching television while Kitten wandered about the apartment. Suddenly a flash of orange streaked by. Again the other way. Back again. Again. Again. And then this time she took a mighty leap into air and landed so that she was hugging a doorframe in a such a way that one paw was on the wall of the living room and the other paw on the wall of my bedroom. There she clung for the briefest second before her tiny body slid all the way down the doorframe and then she was off again.

"That cat is crazy," Roommate said.

I named her on the spot. Zelda. After the wife of F. Scott Fitzgerald, as I'm sure most of you already guessed.

Zelda was with me through three years of 60-hour work weeks combined with 12-credit hour semesters. So was Roommate. Both of them provided me with enormous comfort and support and encouragement albeit in entirely different ways. Zelda definitely outgrew her name, settling into a calm and quiet cathood after her reckless youth.

Shortly after we married, my husband and I adopted two kittens. We named one Tess, after the Thomas Hardy character. The other we called Remy after a favorite brand of cognac. It was a time in our lives when we had the luxury of doing a lot of reading. And drinking.

Tess the cat died suddenly at a young age from an unknown malady. That combined with the rather violent end met by the pair of mourning doves that lived in my pergola whom I named Tristan and Isolde led to my currently held belief that it is smug at best to name living things after tragic literary figures. As it stands right now, I'm 2 birds and 2 cats to the bad with Zelda somehow escaping a fiery death.

Remy, by the way, continues to get better with age.