This morning one of my friends issued me a challenge. Typically, I sit down to write each night with no clue on my topic until I open my computer. Creativity on demand typically comes easy, but sometimes I will reach out and ask to be inspired. I don’t often ask for topics - but I will ask for words. As in, please supply me with a singular word. I will take it from there…Today, he offered “ostentatious” and “name.” I am going with the later. I need to let the former ruminate a bit more. So here’s my riff on “name.”
I always disliked my own name. I grew up being called “Chrissy,” which as a child of the 70’s everyone immediately connected to Three’s Company. I hated that my name was linked to the “stupid girl,” and yet there is no changing a nickname when you are a kid and that train has left the station.
I did not grow up with religion, and yet I had a deeply religious name. On SAT forms every year, I would enter my name in the spaces provided. LUCONI, CHRIST. That was all that would fit. It was a reminder of how it did not suit me. So I waited until I got to college. Day 1: Please call me Christina. Not much better, but at least it made me sound like an adult. Thankfully, most people did, and it has stuck. People who know and love me still call me Chrissy. And I’m totally cool with that. It’s a sign of being in the inner circle I guess…or just someone who’s known me for a really, really long time.
My middle name is a thousand times worse. Marie. Seriously? I sound like I could be an extra in Goodfellas. I loathe that name so much that I literally pretend it does not exist. Everything I sign up for, except my passport, just says “Christina Luconi.” So shocked was I when I saw that middle name pop up on my divorce agreement and that I actually had to sign my name with it, I literally had to go over some papers because I skipped it - I had no clue how to write that as part of my signature.
But Luconi. That name I dig. I kept my maiden name for a multitude of reasons. It’s simple. It’s Tuscan. It’s part of who I am. I’m no raging feminist. If the man I had married had been Italian, I probably would have signed up to take his name. But his was such a departure from my own, I felt like I would completely be missing a piece of who I was. And since I knew our kids would take his last name, I found I wasn’t willing to do it myself.
And so compromise becomes important. When we finally found out I was pregnant, I had two names I loved for girls. My first was met with “no f’ing way.” I get it - it was a little out there. It was “Dakota”**. I knew I wanted something different - but not so different that my kid would be stuffed in a locker different.
But parents have to agree, and I was never going to win on this. My next favorite name was Chiara. Some wonderful family friends had a son who had met a girl in Italy during a semester abroad, they got married, and had a daughter named Chiara. I loved it from the minute I heard it. Thankfully, we agreed. And it suits my daughter. She is unique and special, just like her name. She’s gotten over the fact that she can’t find personalized pencils or little items in stores with more common names like “Julie” or “Olivia.” She loved being in Italy and seeing her name in various places, knowing it was more visible and common there. But most of all, she knows it was a really special name I had loved since I was a teenager, and she got it. She has no nicknames, other than the funny ones we make up for her at home. She is simply, “Chiara.”
Gianna came just as easily. I had two other girls names I liked. Gianna was next, and then Sofia. It was a two minute discussion. She shortens it “Gia,” which she is called by all her friends. I still call her Gianna, because I just love the name. And she lets me, because it’s our special thing.
Both my daughters have Luconi as their middle name. For two big reasons. For one, naming kids is pretty challenging, so coming up with a flowing first to middle to last name combination can be tricky. This made it far easier. Secondly, I know I’m treading on some sacred ground here, but what the hell is the point of a middle name? I never use mine…my husband never used his. So we thought, let’s give the kids a little culture and give them both parts of their heritage. They get their mom’s Italian last name as their middle names, and their dad’s German last name. Simple.
I had always wanted more children, but fertility issues and difficult births made that a challenge. Yes, there are other ways, but that’s a story for another day. I’m grateful for the two beautiful, healthy daughters I have, and I love the names they have - and I’m glad they are happy with them as well. I wish I had had a boy, but he would probably be called X. We never could agree on a boy name. I had always wanted Luca, but that, like Dakota, was a battle I was never going to win.
There was an old Johnny Cash song I loved as a kid called the “Boy Named Sue.” A boy grows up hating his feminine name, and his absentee father for naming him that before abandoning him. When they meet later in life, the dad, who knew he wasn’t going to be around for his son, explains he gave him that name so he would grow up tough and strong, knowing he would have to defend himself. Sue forgives his father, but still decides he will never do that to his own son…the song ends with him saying he will name his own son ”Bill or George, any damn thing but Sue! I still hate that name!”…”
With all the baby naming books out there, I wonder how many of us think about the names we choose as our babies grow older, and how our choices will affect our kids. I hope my choices hold up. They work now - but will they hate their middle names as much as I hate mine?!
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*And one of my little known secrets? Dakota Kane was my alter ego name all through college and my early twenties. If someone hit on me in a bar I had no interest in and asked me my name (or some other odd situation I would get myself into), that was my go to name. I loved the strength of it, and it helped me get out of a lot of awkward situations. I still use it to this day.
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