I am a namesake of sorts. My name, John Robert, is the inverted name of my paternal grandfather that I never met, Robert John.
I’m only John to bill collectors and telemarketers though.
My grandmother had a whole crop of grandsons, and not a granddaughter in sight. There’d been a dry spell with no babies for a few years, all my aunts were getting up in age, and poor ol’ Grandma had pretty much given up hope of ever having a little girl. Then my mom made the surprise announcement that she was pregnant.
Grandma was so excited because she just knew I was the girl she’d been wanting so bad. Back in the day, there used to be pictures of children on the boxes for Ivory Soap. My grandmother cut out one of these pictures (a little girl with curly blonde hair) and sent it to my mother in the mail, writing “This is what I want” on the back.
The little girl’s name was Jessica.
I once asked my mother what she would’ve named me had I been a boy. “Same thing,” she said. “You would’ve been Jesse. Your grandmother would’ve insisted upon it.”
In the Jewish religion, a baby is named after a deceased relative. My grandmother, Katie, died while giving birth to her 8th child, who was named Kathleen, after her. And in my generation there are Carol, Kay, two Kenneths, Carolyn and Keith, plus a few similar middle names. The names are actually closer to the original in their Hebrew versions.
I’m exaggerating a little. Her name is pronounced “mave”, spelled (in English) “Maeve”, but in Irish has several spellings.
It’s Siobhan and is more “shiv-AWN” or “SHUV-on” (Irish pronunciation). There’s also Sinéad, pronounced “shin-AID”, or “SHIN-ed” (Irish pronunciation).
My parents named all their kids after names in the bible. I’m Rebecca, and my brothers are Mark and Matthew. My parents say if they’d had more boys, they would have been Luke and John.
When I was pregnant with my middle son, I wanted to call him Jamie, whether he was a boy or a girl. However, I wanted him to also have a “proper” formal first name, but I didn’t want it to be James because then people would try to call him Jimmie. So I named him Jamison, which I really like, and it’s not very common at all.
On a side note, I’ve pondered on how all of my kids look exactly like their names. There’s the oldest, Scott, who looks just like a Scott- stocky and strong, and he is smart, capable, and a leader. Then, of course, Jamie, with his big blue eyes and dimples and he’s soooo cute, just like a Jamie. Then the baby, Nathan, who naturally, looks just like a Nathan with his strawberry blonde hair and chubby baby cheeks. (Well, okay, he’s six now, but he’s still my baby.)
How did I know to pick names that would suit them so well?
Um, it is pronounced “hermayownee”.
Oh yeah,
I was all set to be Jacqueline Renee, (so my initials would match my dad’s like my brothers and mom’s match) but when I was born, my dad picked me up, looked at me, and said “she looks like a Nicole”. And, so Nicole I became. I’ve never liked it and always gone by my nickname.
My middle name is the first syllable of my two grandmother’s names.
Heh. Well, my name is Tara. My parents had a wager- the one who guessed correctly as to my sex got to name me.
My mom was convinced that I was a boy and was all set to name me…Gawain. Pretty name, indeed, and a noble one- but can you imagine going through childhood as a young boy saddled with that name? Grade school kids are cruel, and they woudn’t have given a hang one way or the other as to the nobility of the name.
So dad was right and named me after the Green Tara instead.
I’m the second of three sons. My parents named their first-born James, after my father. They named me John, after my mother’s father. Two common names, two boring stories.
A little more interestingly, my younger brother was named Frank. Since my parents don’t appear to have had any close friends by that name, we suspect it was homage to Sinatra, of whom they were big fans. FWIW, my brother Frank became a professional musician.
WHoops. Bad memory. I meant the other way round. Looking at the spelling I pronounced it ‘Hermeeown’.
:smack:
:smack:
:smack:
I was supposed to be a son, being the first-born and all, and I was to be named Michael for my paternal grandfather. But since I was a girl and all, the name morphed into Michelle. I was one of 3 Michelles in my first grade class.
My daughter is named Sarah - we picked a name that no one in either family had, that wasn’t trendy, and that didn’t have an obvious nickname. It may not have been trendy, but she always seemed to have a Sarah or a Sara in her class all through school.
My oldest sister was going to be a boy named Bryan. Nope, Victoria. Then the next sister was going to be a boy named Bryan. Nope, Barbara. By the time I came along, my mom said there wasn’t going to be a Bryan, so I ended up being named Brynda.
My parents had it narrowed down to a handful of choices, and when my dad saw “Jennifer” written on a board somewhere in the hospital while my mom was in labor, he decided he liked how it looked.
How boring is that?
My dad wanted to name me “Arwen” from the Tolkein books. Mind you, this was in the late sixties and Tolkein fans weren’t a dime a dozen like they are now so it was an unusual request. My mom didn’t really like it and changed it to “Arlen” which is actually a not too uncommon old Southern man’s name. But it was still an odd name by most standards and I was routinely called Arlene until I hit sixth grade and started using middle name exclusively. (I was weird enought that I didn’t need a weird first anme added to the mix…)
I was named after my paternal grandfather who died less than a year before I was born. It is one of the most common English male names in the world.
The Little Lagomorph was given a name more or less picked out of the blue simultaneously by his mother and I. It is a fairly common boy’s name, and was partly inspired by the title character in a TV miniseries we had just seen.
My Christian name is the same as my grandfather’s, great-grandfather’s and great-great-grandfather’s. For some reason my father was the odd one out.
My brother was called the first thing that came into my parent’s heads. I was given a name that “matched”. I don’t think they did either of us any favours.
Two parts–Originally my first name was going to be Eileen. However, my grandmother decided she didn’t like that name and threatened to tease me about it. So my middle name is Eileen.
The name I ended up with came from a French record. My mother was listening to it one day, and decided that that was a pretty name for a girl .She also wanted one no one else had–I have two cousins named Marcel. On the same side of the family. She didn’t know anyone else with that name–heck, to this day I’ve never met anyone else with my name, and only one person who did know another ‘me’. So, that’s how I got my name.
All I can say is I’m glad she was listening to the French side–I don’t really like my name, but it’s better than the English version (And the name is translated, I’ve checked the record myself).
My name is Elizabeth. My mother, who was in graduate school at the time, started off wanting to name me Elizabethan, pronouced the way you would say “Elizabethan drama” or somesuch. My father put his foot down (thanks Dad!). My mom now agrees that it must have either been the hormones, or the late nights working on the thesis that led to this taking leave of her senses. She claims that she simply liked the name Elizabeth, and thought that Elizabethan would make it more unique. The runner up name was Juliet, so we seem to have a vague Shakespeare theme going on, again inspired by Mom’s graduate study.
My parents both come from rather large families. When my mom was pregnant with me they had already had three children. They wanted a name that would be different from all of my siblings and cousins. Something that would stand out. But they couldn’t think of anything.
Then one night they were watching Kung Fu starring David Carradine on tv and heard a name they really liked. So I was named after a guest character on the show.
They weren’t sure how to spell it but mom settled on Elethia.