This morning, I got to thinking about names, personal names. I was remembering boys that I knew as a child. They were named Jim, and Jackie, Curtis and Edwin. Then there was the immigrant boy from Poland (circa 1949) whose name was Antanasi. Girls names were common, too. Audrey, Tannis, Opal, The Abrams twins (I never did learn their first names!), Norma, Margaret. Their shades rise up before me as I roll their names off my lips. In one family, there were two brothers, Jack and Jim. However, in all the years i knew him, Jim was never called Jim, only "Easter." Why? I never knew, only that Easter was the name he bore.
All this was brought on by Beatrix reading through the local paper in which, for some reason, their were pictures of all the babies born in our community in 2012. There was the usual crop of Cody's, and Olivia's, a Jaxon, and a Quinn, an Abbygale, a Tyce (?) an Aleah and a Zachary. There was one Treyton, and one Twister. Twister? I wonder if his/her formal name would be 'Tornado'? It feels like the naming process has devolved into the same process used by the auto manufacturers when naming models: Camry, Calibre, Titan, Allure…
Time was when names were handed down through families as honored links with the distant past. My name, James, for example. My father was a James, and a great grandfather also was James. How far back in the family the name goes I don't know, but it came to me as a name with meaning in the family.
Reading over the current list of baby names in 2013, I try and figure out what the logic is, if logic there be, in the naming process. It would appear to be novelty, onomatopoeia - the way it sounds, rather than what it means. It strikes me that contemporary names are like the ring tones in my phone, each one distinct and alluring in some vague way, alluring enough to make me adopt it for a time as my own. However, it isn't so easy to change personal names as it is to change ring tones. What we are called used to be connected to who we were. How do you become a 'Twister' without getting in trouble with someone. Understand that spelling conventions change - Jackson becomes Jaxon; Abigale becomes Abbygale - but Tyce sounds like a mispronunciation of something, or a misspelling with a letter left out. It's all so confusing to try and understand a new age. I suppose best to simply accept it with a shake of the head, and compressed lips. Especially compressed lips!
The shocking end of the final episode of season three of Downton Abbey left me quite speechless. Spluttering, but speechless. It seems to me as though the author has opened up so many plot lines and relationships that he couldn't bring them together in 90 minutes. Another half hour wouldn't have helped. So there must be a season four. How will the family cope without Matthew? Will Mary slide back into the 19th century completely, and become a total Victorian, raising a jerk for a son? The old Countess scarcely got a good shot in last night. Will they finally kill her off in season four?
And Tom…what will become of Tom. Having escaped the clutches of the scheming Edna, will he go on to manage the farm as Matthew has set it up? Will there be any struggle about the name of the new heir? Matthew, or Robert? The Daddy's girl's nod to dear old 19th century Dad.Will he keep the spine Mrs. Hughes has given him? I hope to God the Bates will be allowed to go on to happy life, without another tragedy to foul them up. And how much farther will they redeem Barrow? Will Edith and her beau move in together and live a life of glorious sin? Damned shame to have to wait until next autumn to find all this out. My own game plan for the series is that it roll on until 1939, and finish on the eve of WW2, with ll the boys leaving for the army, and refugees piling in from London. But then, that's just me. I want some kind of happy ending.
Time for a walk in the cold. See you soon, I hope, with more profound reflections to share.
All this was brought on by Beatrix reading through the local paper in which, for some reason, their were pictures of all the babies born in our community in 2012. There was the usual crop of Cody's, and Olivia's, a Jaxon, and a Quinn, an Abbygale, a Tyce (?) an Aleah and a Zachary. There was one Treyton, and one Twister. Twister? I wonder if his/her formal name would be 'Tornado'? It feels like the naming process has devolved into the same process used by the auto manufacturers when naming models: Camry, Calibre, Titan, Allure…
Time was when names were handed down through families as honored links with the distant past. My name, James, for example. My father was a James, and a great grandfather also was James. How far back in the family the name goes I don't know, but it came to me as a name with meaning in the family.
Reading over the current list of baby names in 2013, I try and figure out what the logic is, if logic there be, in the naming process. It would appear to be novelty, onomatopoeia - the way it sounds, rather than what it means. It strikes me that contemporary names are like the ring tones in my phone, each one distinct and alluring in some vague way, alluring enough to make me adopt it for a time as my own. However, it isn't so easy to change personal names as it is to change ring tones. What we are called used to be connected to who we were. How do you become a 'Twister' without getting in trouble with someone. Understand that spelling conventions change - Jackson becomes Jaxon; Abigale becomes Abbygale - but Tyce sounds like a mispronunciation of something, or a misspelling with a letter left out. It's all so confusing to try and understand a new age. I suppose best to simply accept it with a shake of the head, and compressed lips. Especially compressed lips!
The shocking end of the final episode of season three of Downton Abbey left me quite speechless. Spluttering, but speechless. It seems to me as though the author has opened up so many plot lines and relationships that he couldn't bring them together in 90 minutes. Another half hour wouldn't have helped. So there must be a season four. How will the family cope without Matthew? Will Mary slide back into the 19th century completely, and become a total Victorian, raising a jerk for a son? The old Countess scarcely got a good shot in last night. Will they finally kill her off in season four?
And Tom…what will become of Tom. Having escaped the clutches of the scheming Edna, will he go on to manage the farm as Matthew has set it up? Will there be any struggle about the name of the new heir? Matthew, or Robert? The Daddy's girl's nod to dear old 19th century Dad.Will he keep the spine Mrs. Hughes has given him? I hope to God the Bates will be allowed to go on to happy life, without another tragedy to foul them up. And how much farther will they redeem Barrow? Will Edith and her beau move in together and live a life of glorious sin? Damned shame to have to wait until next autumn to find all this out. My own game plan for the series is that it roll on until 1939, and finish on the eve of WW2, with ll the boys leaving for the army, and refugees piling in from London. But then, that's just me. I want some kind of happy ending.
Time for a walk in the cold. See you soon, I hope, with more profound reflections to share.
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