What's in a Name?

A name is something given to you by someone else.

I've known people who tried to change what they were called. (Sorry friends, in my head I still call you by the old name!) And I have even kind of done that. I used to go by "Sarah." Now I go by "Sarah Beth." But did I really change my name?

No. My friends in college started calling me "Sarah Beth" before I decided to officially own it. First one friend did it to kind of irritate me, because I was still doing my whole "I'm not Southern" thing and I thought that having a double name sounded Southern. Then a few other friends picked it up. Then John's family called me "Sarah Beth" because his sister is also named "Sarah." By the time I got to grad school it seemed like a no-brainer to just introduce myself as "Sarah Beth."

It used to feel overly personal for people to call me "Sarah Beth." Only family had called me that previously, and only occasionally. Now it feels too personal when people call me "Sarah." The only people who call me that knew me before I was "Sarah Beth."

Even though I get a little jolt by being called the "wrong" name, the truth is, I don't really care. People want you to choose, so I choose, but to quote my mother, "You can call my anything as long as you don't call me late for supper."

Of course I've changed my last name, too. I do miss my old name. It had character. It matched at least part of my ethnic heritage. It was unique. When you searched me on the Internet, I was the only one. But I've gotten used to my new name and I really can't imagine being anyone else.

I find it funny that both my children are quick to tell you what they want to be called, even though my husband and I, of course, gave them their names.

Virginia called herself "Zia Zia" before she could pronounce her name. But after a while, we started to wonder if she was trying to come up with a nick name for herself. I asked her, "Do you want to be called Zia Zia?"

She frowned at me and said, "No I'm Vir-gin-ia." She never mispronounced it again.

Horatio also defends his title. If I call him "honey" or "peanut" he says, "No! I not nut! Ray-sho!"

Of course he has no problem making up names for other people. He calls Virginia "Mine" and sometimes calls me, "Momma Me Me."

Every word is a name, giving us a way to talk about that thing. Many cultures believe names to be sacred. If a person knows your true name they can have power over you. What does it mean that the names we are known by so rarely come from ourselves?

Sound and Sense in Alice in Wonderland and Alice Through the Looking Glass

Carroll, L. (1992). Alice in wonderland. Gray, D. J. (Ed.), New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Company

From Alice in Wonderland:

The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he said was “Why is a raven like a writing-desk?”

“Come, we shall have some fun now!” thought Alice. “I’m glad they’ve begun asking riddles – I believe I can guess that,” she added aloud.

“Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?” said the March Hare.

“Exactly so,” said Alice.

“Then you should say what you mean,” the March Hare went on.

“I do.” Alice hastily replied; “at least – at least I mean what I say – that’s the same thing, you know.”

“Not the same thing a bit!” said the Hatter. “Why, you might just as well say that ‘I see what I eat’ is the same thing as ‘I eat what I see’!”

“You might just as well say,” added the March Hare, “that ‘I like what I get’ is the same thing as ‘I get what I like’!”

“You might just as well say,” added the Dormouse, which seemed to be talking in its sleep, “that ‘I breathe when I sleep’ is the same thing as ‘I sleep when I breathe’!”

“It is the same thing with you,” said the Hatter, and here the conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while Alice thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks, which wasn’t much. (p. 55)

“Ah well! It means much the same thing,” said the Duchess, digging her sharp little chin into Alice’s shoulder as she added “and the moral of that is – ‘Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves.’” (pp. 70-71)

Footnote: The proverb is “Take care of the pence, and the pounds will take care of themselves.” (p. 71)

From Alice Through the Looking Glass:

After reading Jabberwocky –

“It seems very pretty,” she said when she had finished it, “but it’s rather hard to understand!” (You see she didn’t like to confess even to herself, that she couldn’t make it out at all.) “Somehow it seems to fill my head with ideas – only I don’t exactly know what they are! However, somebody killed something; that’s clear, at any rate-” (p. 118)

Alice didn’t like being criticized, so she began asking questions. “Aren’t you sometimes frightened at being planted out here, with nobody to take care of you?”

“There’s the tree in the middle,” said the Rose. “What else is it good for?”

“But what could it do, if any danger came?” Alice asked.

“It could bark,” said the Rose.

“It says ‘Bough-wough!’” cried a Daisy. “That’s why its branches are called boughs!” (pp. 121-122)

Footnote: This is the first of several passages in the book that play with the question of whether words are entirely arbitrary signs or whether, as the Daisy here suggests, the name of a thing is somehow intrinsically connected with its nature. (p. 122)

“I don’t rejoice in insects at all,” Alice explained, “because I’m rather afraid of them – at least the large kinds. But I can tell you the names of some of them.”

“Of course they answer to their names?” the Gnat remarked carelessly.

“I never knew them do it.”

“What’s the use of their having names,” the Gnat said, “if they wo’n’t answer to them?”

“No use to them,” said Alice; “but it’s useful to the people that name them, I suppose. If not, why do things have names at all?”

“I ca’n’t say,” the Gnat replied. “Further on, in the wood down there, they’ve got no names – however, go on with your list of insects: you’re wasting time.” (p. 132)

Footnote: Alice here plays with another theory of language, later to be developed by Humpty Dumpty: that names are arbitrary designations imposed on things for the convenience of humans. (p. 132)

Just then a Fawn came wandering by: it looked at Alice with its large gentle eyes, but didn’t seem at all frightened. “Here then! Here then!” Alice said, as she held out her hand and tried to stroke it; but it only started back a little, and then stood looking at her again.

“What do you call yourself?” the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweet voice it had!

“I wish I knew!” thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly, “Nothing, just now.”

“Think again,” it said: “that wo’n’t do.”

Alice thought, but nothing came of it. “Please, would you tell me what you call yourself?” she said timidly. “I think that might help a little.”

“I’ll tell you, if you’ll come a little further on,” the Fawn said. “I can’n’t remember here.”

So they walked on together through the wood, Alice with her arms clasped lovingly round the soft neck of the Fawn, till they came out into another open field, and here the Fawn gave a sudden bound into the air, and shook itself free from Alice’s arm. “I’m a Fawn!” it cried out in a voice of delight. “And, dear me! you’re a human child!” A sudden look of alarm came into its beautiful brown eyes, and in another moment it had darted away at full speed. (pp. 136-137)

“Don’t stand chattering to yourself like that,” Humpty Dumpty said, looking at her for the first time, “but tell me your name and your business.”

“My name is Alice, but – “

“It’s a stupid name enough!” Humpty Dumpty interrupted impatiently. “What does it mean?”

“Must a name mean something?” Alice asked doubtfully.

“Of course it must,” Humpty Dumpty said with a short laugh: “my name means the shape I am – and a good handsome shape it is, too. With a name like yours, you might be any shape, almost.” (p. 160)

Footnote: Humpty Dumpty here advances the theory that names have something to do with the nature of the thing they name. Later, in his remarks about “glory,” he picks up the other theory Dodgson plays with in this book, that words are wholly arbitrary signs. (p. 160)

“In that case we start afresh,” said Humpty Dumpty, “and it’s my turn to choose a subject-” (“He talks about it just as if it was a game!” thought Alice.) “So here’s a question for you. How old did you say you were?”

Alice made a short calculation, and said “Seven years and six months.”

“Wrong!” Humpty Dumpty exclaimed triumphantly. “You never said a word like it!”

“I thought you meant ‘How old are you?’” Alice explained.

“If I’d meant that, I’d have said it,” said Humpty Dumpty. (p. 161)

“And only one for birthday presents, you know. There’s glory for you!”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘glory,’” Alice said.

Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. “Of course you don’t – till I tell you. I meant ‘there’s a nice knock-down argument for you!’”

“But ‘glory’ doesn’t mean ‘a nice knock-down argument,’” Alice objected.

“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, “it means just what I choose it to mean – neither more nor less.”

“The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words mean so many different things.”

“The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, “which is to be master – that’s all.” (p. 163)

(Shortly after this, Humpty Dumpty explicates the first stanza of Jabberwocky by giving meanings for the nonsense words.)

Things That Aren't There

I have been thinking about how words can be more meaningful than the things they describe.

The human mind has some clever little things called "memory" and "imagination." Because of this we think about things that are either not in existence any more or possibly don't exist at all. Now maybe this is a "tree falls in the forest" question, but do those ideas even exist if we can't talk about them? Maybe or maybe not, but certainly the ideas take off and gain corporeality through discussion.

Think of a person you have lost. That person has a name, a word used to describe him. You can still talk about that person by name, remember your time together, and in many ways, keep him with you through shared memories. The person the name belongs to no longer exists, but the name continues to mean everything it did when the person was alive. The word is now more real than the thing it describes.

Now think of God. Some would say God is imagined. Whether He is isn't really important to this discussion. What is important is that what exactly God means is up for debate. The fact that we have a name for God allows that debate to take place. The fact that we can talk about God makes most religions what they are. Do you see how essential it is to have a word for something if we are to make it a part of our lives?

For the word to truly come to life, to create meaning, must it be spoken? Consider my examples. Remembering a lost friend is an activity normally done out loud. And although there are many persuasive religious texts, religion is also a very verbal activity.