WHAT’S IN A NAME? – A lot and then some

Peadar, Pedro, Pekka, Pere, Petro, Pierre and Pieter are just a few variants of the name Peter. My true favorite is the Latin version which is Petrus – but don’t ever call me that, as well as I don’t like to be called Pete – my name is Peter, and I’ll stick with that. Do you like your name and do you really know what it means?

Peter is also a biblical name, related to Saint Peter given to him by Jesus C., meaning rock or stone for some reason or another. When you really dig into what’s in a name, it can get rather interesting. I asked my Mother many years ago how she chose Peter and though there is so much to that name, her simple answer was: “I liked the sound of it.” Not really making me feel utterly special name-wise, huh?

We are often being blessed (and just as often not) with other family member’s names, dead or alive. When those names really suck, they are quickly turned into middle initials instead and will never be mentioned again. Just ask somebody what their middle initial stand for and you’ll see a stern lack of willingness to expose such deep secrets.

My middle initial is B and stands for Bo and has absolutely nothing to do with any dead or alive relatives of mine. My Mother was filing my name-documents after I was born and the woman behind the counter asked if she had a middle name for me. My Mother said “no” and the clerk told her that it was the thing to do at the time. My Mother asked the clerk if she had any suggestions and the clerk said “What about Bo?” and my Mother said “okay” (of course in Danish, which is pretty much the same as in English). So as the unimportance of Bo became clear, it quickly turned into the initial B, and not mentioned since; I could also tell you the B is for Byron, but that would be lying, wouldn't it? But Byron sounds so cool and aristocratic, don't you think?

I had only been in the USA for a week or so and was invited to this gallery-opening in Beverly Hills. The rituals here in America, when meeting new people, the introductions and all that, were totally new to me. In Denmark you could spend a whole evening chatting with somebody and know absolutely nothing about them when you went home. Here you exchange names and pleasantries up front; getting it out of the way, I guess.

One of the first persons I was introduced to said: “Hello, my name is Richard (whatever); and please don’t call me Dick…” I was a bit puzzled, since I had no reason to call him “dick” as we had just met and therefor didn’t know if he was. But then somebody explained to me that Dick was a shorter version of Richard – go figure.

I have never really cared for these abbreviated names. Like Robert is Bob, Rob, Bobby, Bert – but why? (I have always had a hard time with the name Bob; too often I spell it backwards). Katherine is a lovely name, but is often torn apart becoming Kat, Kate, Kathy, Katie and so forth. William becomes Bill (why?) Billy, Willie, Wilmot and Wullie (seriously, Wullie in some countries; Scotland, I think). The base name of William is Wilhelm, which I think is a glorious name. Deborah is a classic, but ruined by Deb and Debbie. Anthony is such a grand name, so why Tony. Mark Antony & Cleopatra would never have made it as Tony & Cleo would they?

And then we do that nickname thing. I know, terms of endearment is related, but some of these names – helloooo… Angel, Babe, Baby Cakes, Big Boy, Boo Bear, Bunny, Buttercup, Cuddle Cakes, Cutie Pie, Doll Face, Dream Boat and the list is long. My all-time favorite is of course Stud-Muffin... Well, anyway; when I was a young boy, my first Sister-in-law called me Nullermand. Translated from Danish it means Dust-Bunny, like those unwanted tumbleweed-like dust creations under your bed. I never figured out why she called me that, but I didn’t care because I liked her a lot – I still do.

On the other side we have rude and cruel name-calling, for the most uttered behind the target’s back. Fatso, weight-challenged, chatter mouth, four-eyes, slim, dingbat, nitwit, zit and feel free adding your own library; we all have them and they are not very nice, are they? That type of name-calling is ignorant and that’s why you and I don’t do it – true?

So how much do you know about your own name? Why are you named what you are? What does your name really mean? Why did you parents name you what they named you? And on a scale from 1-10 how really embarrassing is your middle name? I told you mine; now tell me yours.

I like the fact that my name Peter means rock & stone. But the only association related to me that I can see would be my buns-of-steel; though they have seriously tarnished over the last few years.

See you next Monday, Darling...

Petrus B. Steinuss (whatever)

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