Wherefore art thou Romeo?

Some of you probably can relate. Those of you who are parents definitely can. Then there are some of you, who like me, delight in naming things we own (cars, teddybears, laptops, etc.). I’m into names perhaps initially because I like my name, its meaning, and the story behind it. My father chose it from a baby name book when he found it met his criteria: it’s uncommon, it has a good meaning, and it starts with the letter C.

My grandfather had mandated that all his grandchildren’s names must begin with the letter C, because we are the third generation. The Chinese have generational names; usually the first or second name will be the same for children born into the same generation. For instance, (and pardon the bad example) you and your brother would be: Can sing and Can dance = "can" is your generational name. Your cousins possibly would be other Cans.

In the 60s, at the height of communism’s popularity, the Chinese in Indonesia were encouraged to change their names to Indonesian-sounding names in order to show allegiance to the country. So my grandfather did. Our last name was changed, retaining the meaning of it yet resembling none of the letters or pronunciation. He changed his first name also, but gave his sons the freedom to pick their own. The story goes that he had wanted them to have B as initials (as the second generation of the “new” family) but they, well, didn’t.

My grandfather chose a name for himself that means just or fair. He named the males in my generation: upright. The females: jade (which stands for justice, compassion, courage). It’s clear to me what he valued in people. During my grandpa’s funeral my uncle said he took one thing away from Grandpa’s life: money doesn’t matter – it’s your life, how you lead it, and your name, that matters.

I’m not sure why it’s important to us what we’re called. Shakespeare contended it doesn’t matter – a rose by any other name and so on – and in a sense I agree with him, the substance doesn’t change. Yet God changed Abram’s name to Abraham, Sarai’s to Sarah, Jacob to Israel, etc. He seemed to care what meaning their names hold, as if they hold His promise, His hope, His vision of who they are and who they will become. I’ve also run across people who saw my family name and noted: you are so and so’s daughter/granddaughter/sister/cousin? At which point I cringe inside thinking, I hope I haven’t marred my father/mother/grandparents/relatives’ good name. Entirely possible.

It occurred to me that, at that point, my grandfather, grandmother, father and uncles, and a slew of other relatives had a choice of all the names in the world to pick their own. Who did they want to be? What did they want to be called from that moment on? I like my name, but if I must: to what would I change it? Or what name would God give me?

Sometimes I just like to wonder.

In loving memory of my Grandpa and Father who gave me my names.