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Sweet Smelling Rose

  • Writer: erikaraskin
    erikaraskin
  • 5 days ago
  • 3 min read

I love words in general and names in particular. I collect them. And not to toot my own or anything, but I’m a pro at giving them out to other people, too.


I’ve helped many with this momentous task. Not just relatives, acquaintances, too. Excluding my own off-spring, Taryn, Emma Lise, Hannah Grace, Mariah Sofia, Natalie, Hadley Ann, Tess, Charlotte, Michael and Daisy have me to thank. (Or their parents to blame. They had final say.) There were also a few more that I should have been consulted on, but wasn’t. Just sayin.


It’s a weighty task. Handles can be determinative (subjecting a kid to Wayne, Ray or Lee as a stepping stone between first and last practically guarantees he’ll grow up a serial killer); inspirational (Zeke); informational (Junior); aspirational (King). Donald Trump’s parents —Fred Christ (seriously) and Mary Ann missed the boat.


Naming is straightforward if there’s an older sibling involved. It’s rare that a cluster of offspring don’t sound harmonious. Perhaps they all end in an e sound or an ah, start with the same consonant, or compose a clutch of virtues (Patience, Faith and Verity, for instance.) With Jason and Kylie Kelce’s female brood — Finn, Wyatt, Elliotte, and Bennett—three out of four end in T sounds and are all gender neutral. If a fifth chica should appear, they might consider Brette, Sloane or Landry (for the coach and extra point.)


I learned about the importance of one’s handle from my author-mother who studied the assignment of titles like it was a job. Back in the day when obstetricians advised patients to smoke to achieve smaller, more deliverable babies, my Marlboro loving mother got the branding book, perhaps on the way back from an appointment. I came in at six pounds and was called Erika Bay. Almost 67 years later the same book’s still in use.


My name’s penultimate iteration (written below in my mother Barbara’s hand) was eventually replaced with a K because Mom liked the visual symmetry of two of them. (Erika Raskin.) My dad liked the spelling because it was a nod to Erika Mann, who risked her life sneaking back into Nazi Germany to reclaim her Nobel Prize-winning father’s manuscript. (Having her as a namesake always felt a tad, I don’t know, demanding.) I’m glad, though, not to have been saddled with Hedwig in the middle as she was.



That said, I’ve never thought Erika a good fit. It sounds harsh. Also, it feels like an A was just lazily slapped on to girl-ify. My childhood nickname was Sissy which I favored a lot more, but was never able to get going outside the house. When I became a grandmother I selected Poppy for its softness and spring connotations. (I thought about resurrecting Sissy — but worried it could have been confusing. Like Uncle-Daddy or something.)


Anyway, the family naming book — with its faded pastel monikers marching across the front cover (boys in blue: Maddox, Howland, Macnair and girls in pink: Patience, Ramona and Madeline) is mailed between siblings and cousins cross country. Contenders are circled (some of the same in different colored ink) and final choices are recorded in the covers like other people do in bonafide bibles.



By the way, names are of serious import for fictional characters, too. Case in point: Ken Kesey’s choices in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. While I only remember two, (that English class was a long time ago) they’re illustrative. The revolutionary protagonist, Randle Patrick McMurphy, who tried to overthrow a mental institution and was lobotomized for his troubles, had the initials of RPM. His emasculating, fascist foil (think Pete Hegseth in a crisp white cap) was called Nurse Ratched. Just like the tool used to tighten nuts.


I always thought a character named Mimi would be good for a diva, Earnest could be employed ironically or not and C(ee)C(ee) might be used for your basic GOP pushover.

(Semi) funny aside: My novel Best Intentions took so long to write-slash-publish I had to ditch most of the original names because they’d gone out of style. Not quite Madge and Milt, but close.


Anyway, if you ever need help in this department, feel free to reach out. I have lists.







 
 
 

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