Having the Power of Adam and Eve

Over the course of your life, you’ll make millions of decisions. Some of them may be small and insignificant (re: Gummi Bears v. Sprinkles, 1992), while others may be quite complex (re: William & Mary v. Other 47 Schools I Applied To, 1998.) And while the effects of these choices you make may have some long-lasting remnants to your once and future life, no decision I’ve ever made will have greater ramifications than what to name our first-born.

You get one shot at this one, folks.

Naming a child is a responsibility like none other. Long after you’re gone, your kid needs to live with the choice that you made as to what the world shall know him/her as. You can play it safe and allow other attributes of their future lives define them. You can take a big risk for a big reward, and allow them to be the cool kid in class even before they set their Trapper Keeper down. You can take a big risk and ruin their lives, as celebrities so often do. (Gwyneth McColdplay, I’m looking in your direction.) Or you can name the kid Jeeves, and punch his ticket to butler school.

(But hey, he’ll be excellent at fetching croissants for ya.)

The first question anyone will ask you after finding out you are a new parent is, “What is the baby’s name?” This is a completely natural question, I assure you. Just like a person of any age, a baby must rely on their name for identification, not the number of toes she has or whether or not she’s currently asleep.

But here’s the thing about, “What is the baby’s name?” The way it casually flows into a conversation, the one who asks the question has no choice but to like the name the baby has been given. I have never once asked that question only to follow up with, “That’s a horrible name!” It’s not in human nature to do so. Let’s say your friend has deemed their newborn a truly horrible name. You can’t say, “You’re joking, right?” in case that may actually be the name. You need to accept the name in stride or else, you’ll never be invited to see the baby again. This goes double if the baby is present. Sometimes I think about answering that question with the name “Horseradish” just to prove my point.

Lucky for Clara, I didn’t push for her to be Horseradish.

So where does Clara come from? Other than the name was my idea, I really couldn’t tell you. Long before marriage and pregnancy, everyone fantasizes as to what they will name their children. I’ve had Clara in mind for years, but for reasons unknown. I’ve never known a Clara personally, and it’s not a family name, either. And even after Katie agreed it would be an ideal name, I had to convince her it had nothing to do with Back to the Future Part III.

(Honestly, that’s pure coincidence. Unless we name our first son McFly, that is.)

The year I was born, the top 5 boys’ names were Michael, Christopher, Jason, David, and James. (For the record, “Spud” ranked a surprising 12th) I like my name, and wouldn’t traded it for any other in the world (except maybe for “Danger.”) However, having the most popular name is not necessarily good. It forces your friends to accept their surnames as their given names and forces you to go by an initial all through elementary school. Clara is unique while not being bizarre, currently ranking 246th among all girls’ names.

That’s perfect.

Actually, 245 is a rank worth attaining, since the 245th current girl name is “Heaven.” As a Christian, I feel qualified to say that’s a terrible name. It’s not really a name at all, just a misguided parent’s hope for piety in their young one.

Which of the following professions is more likely to employ a girl named “Heaven?”
a) Nun
b) Stripper

Just sayin’.