The Name Game

Three days before the 2020 Presidential Election, I wanted to write about politics.  I wanted to state my support for the candidate I hope will win the election and be our leader for the next four years.  But I could not think of what to say.  We have been so inundated with ads, articles and news stories that I feared anything I might say, has already been said and repeated over and over again.

So, I decided to write about names.  My name is Joseph.  It was my father’s name and his father’s name.  My father was Joseph, Jr., and I sometimes regretted that despite having the same name as my father, I was not Joseph, III, which seemed cool and kind of classy to me as a young boy.  But my parents gave me a middle name, Michael, which did not match my father’s, so I was simply Joseph M. 

My father had strong opinions about names.  His parents were immigrants from what is now Slovakia, who learned to speak heavily accented English.  His children would have solid American names to blend into America’s melting pot.  When my mother was pregnant with my youngest brother, a neighbor suggested that they should name the baby Sean if it turned out to be another boy. 

“Sean?” my father responded.  “I wouldn’t name a dog Sean.”  His boys were Bill, Joe, Rich, Ron, and Bob.  He did not deviate from that line of thinking when it came to middle names – Joseph, Michael, Anthony, James, David – all Biblical and all strongly American names.  No one could taunt his boys because of names that were unusual or oddly ethnic.

Not surprisingly, his opinions carried over to his grandchildren.  “Maura?  I never heard of that name,” he said of his first granddaughter.  But he was willing to give more latitude to girl’s names – Maura, Kristin, and Rachael.  He didn’t live to see Bethany, but I’m sure he would have approved.

And Anna, my daughter’s name?  In Slovak families, girls were either named Mary or Anna.  Between my wife, who is half Slovak and me (fully Slovak), three grandmothers were named Anna, and there were at least three aunts named Mary.  In my mother’s family, both Mary and Anna were taken by older siblings, so she was named Ilona, which she Americanized to Eleanor.  Thus, Anna Ilona was pretty much a home run when we named our daughter.

My father’s grandsons were Nick, Rick, Michael, Joe, Andy, Stephen and Samuel.  Samuel, my son, had the only name my father wasn’t sure about.  A little too ethnic, he thought.  Just be sure to call him Samuel and not Sam, and especially not Sammy, my father recommended.  Of course, attaching Joseph as Samuel’s middle name gave my father reason enough to like it.

I have always liked the name given to me by my parents.  When I first learned that names have meanings, I looked up Joseph and discovered it meant, “he shall add.”  I was somewhat disappointed that the meaning was not more heroic.  It sounded like I would be a mathematician.  But over time, I realized that it meant I might add something to the lives of friends, family and perhaps, the world beyond.  Whether I did that in my thirty years as a lawyer is open to question.  I’ve tried to make up for it during my retired years by volunteering and by writing, which includes this blog.  I hope this blog has added a smile, an escape, or perhaps, something to think about to my loyal readers.

But to return briefly to politics, I am pleased that one of the candidates for President is named Joe.  As common as it is, this country has never had a President with that name.  We have had an Abraham, a Ulysses, a Grover, a Woodrow and even a Barack, but no Joseph. 

That may be reason enough to get my vote if we were playing a name game.  But I feel strongly that this Joseph will add what this country so desperately needs at this time – competence, honesty, compassion, civility – traits sorely lacking in the current White House occupant. 

That is why I cast my vote for a man named Joe.