Playing the Name Game
By Charles Tanowitz
As our bundle of joy took shape in my wife's belly, she and I went through an agonizing decision. What would we call him?
And so, once again, begins the Name Game.
It's a game my wife and I began playing as soon as we decided to have children. The trial version that we played on our dog had few guidelines - his name is "Demby" after Louis Dembitz Brandeis. But the tournament version of the game has five very specific rules.
Rule One: The child shall have a Hebrew name and an English name with the same initial sound.
Rule Two: The first name will honor the child's maternal grandparents, both of whom. had names that began with L -- Leah and Eluzer, and my wife's grandmother decreed that if a child is to be named for her or her husband, that name must come first, or don't bother at all. Okay.
Rule Three: The name Lawrence (Larry) is already taken by my father, and any name that sounds too much like Ellen is out. That's my wife's name and if , for example, I have to shout "Alan" through the house, either everyone will answer or they'll think I'm calling the other person.
Rule Four: The Hebrew middle name is for my Grandfathers Meyer. Yes, both my grandfathers had the same name. To make matters worse, the names Marc, Michael, Matthew and Mitchell are all taken by other members of the family. Although Mitchell is only a middle name, we're not sure about using that one.
Rule Five: The name must be one that Ellen and I both like, while not saddling the child with something too "dorky." Before I list some we've rejected, my apologies to anyone I'm going to offend. No Leopold, Louis, Langston, Logan (nice name but not for a Jewish boy in Massachusetts. It sounds too Irish and besides, itıs an airport). No Oliver, no Elmont -- you get the point.
So here's where things stand. Our son will have an "L" sound for the first name, "M" for the middle name and the list of rejects is extensive.
The game begins. As the pieces move along the board, our parents keep throwing up obstacles. Being the first grandchild, both sets of grandparents feel the need to put in their two cents. One day my wife picked up the phone and my mother, without saying hello, simply said "Logan."
"What?" Ellen replied. "Is there something wrong with the airport?"
"Logan," my mother repeated. "What about the name Logan?"
This might have led to an interesting conversation, if we hadn't already rejected the name the first three times she suggested it. Then dad got on the phone.
"Larchmont," he said.
"No thanks," I replied. "I don't want him named for a section of Westchester."
"How about Lincoln?" he asked.
No comment.
After taking everything into consideration, Ellen and I came up with a few names and tried them on, like looking at a new coat in the mirror and deciding whether or not to keep it. We wrote the names out, then called them... then shouted them.
"Logan, dinner time!" "Logan Mason Tanowitz, come down here this instant!"
No, didn't feel right.
"Larchmont Marvin Tanowitz, clean your room!"
Not even close.
"Ilan, eat your dinner."
Hmmm.... Getting closer.
Then we met him, "You must be Alexander Meyer Tanowitz."
Game over.
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