If you tell me you have a child, I’m probably going to ask what his or her name is, mostly because I want to discern what type of person you are based on the name you picked. I find name choice a fascinating little corner of the attic that is the human mind.
If I was born a boy, I would have been named Alexander. But by the time my brother was born, my parents were on to John/Jack. Would Jack have been a different person if he were Alexander? I put a call out on my Facebook page last week for people to reveal their “other” name, and got some pretty fun tales in response:
Anne Elizabeth Moore: Guess what. Buffy. For reals. My parents expected me to be a red-headed boy, and would have named that boy Buffy. Thankfully by the time they did have a red-headed boy, I had talked them out of that insanity.
Alissa Rowinsky Wright: Adam. But, initially, they were going to name me Black Elk. A totally appropriate name for a Jewish kid about to be born in Topeka, Kansas. Thanks, hippie parents, for coming to your senses!
Jessica Grose : Zeke.