What's in a Name?

That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.

Poor, naive little Juliet. There is much in a name, as she tragically discovered. Our name is more than how others identify us, it's our identity-who we are.

My close friends and family call me Tam. I'm comfortable as Tam. I am Tam. Tam I am. But I always introduce myself as Tamara. The only person who was ever allowed to call me Tammy was my grandpa.

My older sister is Diana, not Dian-na or Diane.

My home teacher is Mason Dixon. Did his parents do that on purpose? Did they hope he would grow up and embody the spirit of compromise? Or did they hope he would be able to stand his ground- a line must be drawn here! This far, and no further! Or did they just love the name Mason so much, that the last name was inconsequential? Did they figure that people are so culturally and historically ignorant that no one would even think twice about a kid named Mason Dixon?

My mom is Damaris. People have asked her what she goes by. Uh, by my name, Damaris. (idiots)

Patrice used to get offended when he would get phone calls or mail for Ms. Boudou until he realized that he could legitimately blow them off by saying truthfully "There's no Ms. Patrice Boudou here."

We agonized over Nicco's name. We wanted something normal without being common, unique without being weird. And we wanted a meaningful name. Nicco means "victorious." I understand when people ask if it is short for something, but I don't understand people who want to change it to a nickname. What would a nickname for Nicco be? Apparently, to his music teacher, it would be Nicky.

On Thursday mornings his music teacher is the gate guard at school. I heard her call him Nicky the first time a few weeks ago, but I was already in my corner watching him walk through the courtyard and around the corner and I felt dumb going up to her to correct her. I asked Nicco if she always calls him Nicky. He said, "I think she was just being funny." I told him it is okay to politely say to her, "My name is Nicco." But he's shy.

I forgot again last Thursday to stay close to him so I would be nearby to correct her for him and he came home and said, "Ms. Luck called me Nicky again."

Today when he saw her at the gate he walked me back a few steps and whispered, "Can you tell her my name is Nicco if she calls me Nicky again?" So I did. She apologized. And I'm sure she will call him Nicco from now on.