The Naming of Things

So, Sara, started this blog off by discussing my obsession with baby names. I can't hear a person's name (or city, river, pet, or most other things) without tacking on the name Weisbrod or Gravelin and lolling it around in my head. I'm particularly amused by bizarre athlete names. I like to imagine little LaDainian or Jerious Weisbrod. I've always loved the names of the Bailey brothers from UGA (Champ and Boss). My favorite though is Plaxico. In fact, I've talked about it so much, I'd be surprised if my friend Jason Simpson doesn't call our baby Plaxico. If we don't name our child Plaxico I'll be creating a plaque preventing mouthwash with that name. Or a plastic manufacturing company.

(side note - apparently this is not just me. Once I told the girls I coach that Sara was pregnant they began suggesting names. My favorite suggestion? Fabuola)

And it's not just people names. I've already got ideas for our pet names. I'm going to put these out here, in the circle of trust, believing that no one will steal these names. At some point we'll have a hound dog (beagle or coonhound) named Tugaloo (after a lake in N. Georgia), a Rottweiler named Avon Barksdale, and cat named Secretary of State Hillary Kitten (hat tip to Shimmy who came up with president elect Bark Obama for a dog).

And truth be told, it's not just people and pet names. I really enjoy creating and implementing structure and organization in areas where there is no structure. It's what I did at the UPA and what I do at EyeWonder. It's why I coach and write about Ultimate.

At the heart of organizing is creating definitions; identifying groups of like things, identifying common criteria, giving or creating words that make it easy for people to understand. Naming something is the core of communication. Good naming not only demonstrates a deep understanding of what you are naming but also an understanding of those using the name. You give something a name that helps make things clearer, is easy to remember, and "fits" and it is an accomplishment.

But naming something is a big responsibility and can sometimes be scary. Defining something creates permanence - it prevents (or slows) change. Most of the people that were at our wedding said that they couldn't hear my vows. Truthfully, I don't recall exactly what I said. I didn't write it down. The gist of it was that I didn't want to describe or define our "love" because what was important was that our relationship could continue to grow and I didn't want to put any limits on it. I think I threw something in there about the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle and the Observer effect - something about how observing our love would change it so I wasn't observing it (yeah, you were probably better off having not heard it).

Anyway, for as much as I get excited about naming a child - it's also somewhat frightening. I mean, this kid is going to be stuck with the name for Champ's whole life. Trying to think of names that fit with our family names, can't be made fun of, is flexible to allow for both a fun and professional life is a challenge.

One of the Tom's (Sara's dad) idiosyncrasies that I really appreciate is his penchant for nicknames. Sara has gone from "Silky" to "Tumbleweed" to "Silk" (the grown up version of Silky I think). In the time that I've known her, Diana has been known by "The Standard Master" and "Dideedejee" (sp?) or just "Didee" for short. Laura is "Laura-bud."

The beauty of nicknames is that they can evolve and change. They can adjust to capture the essence of the person as that essence changes. And the nicknames, as a collection, can provide a fuller picture of a person than just the name that they were given on the day of their birth. So here's to nicknames.

Oh, and as for actual names, while I was cool with sharing them before Sara was pregnant, now I feel like it would be bad luck to talk about them. But we've got a few in mind.