I always
wanted a baby girl. I don't know why--maybe it's because I grew up with two
brothers, and was already seven when my sister finally came. Maybe it's because
I am a self-proclaimed feminist (which is convenient, because it means I get to
be a feminist on my own terms--a very feminist thing to do, I'd say) and would
like to raise a girl who understands her value comes less from her chromosomes
and more from her humanity. Maybe it's because the only names I like are female
names.
With my first
born, because of his heart condition, we had to decide quickly on a name. It
wasn't required; we just couldn't keep referring to "the baby"
without our throats sticking. Picking a name simplified an already
too-complicated experience. Since Gayle and I have been together since our
junior year in high school, we'd often joked that we'd name any kid we had
"Peter Bruce Dowdle", after our two favorite superheroes (Peter Parker
as Spider-Man and Bruce Wayne as Batman). Neither of us thrilled at the name, necessarily. Especially Bruce. Neither of us
liked Bruce.
But when we
found out the gender of Peter, we decided to go ahead and use half of our
years' old joke. His name is biblical, after all, and so we could always fall
on that if people ask why use that name. Plus it's traditional; with a weird
last name like Dowdle, you take what shortcuts you can. Lastly, Peter's in
Shakespeare.
I was still
new to the Bard, so I didn't immediately think of Peter Quince from A Midsummer Night's Dream. I had to go
online to some website that contained every character from every play and start
hunting. I quickly found that one of the servants to the Capulet family is
named Peter, too. I later saw others in sundry plays, all characters being of
minor necessity; still, they were there.
Satisfied
that my obsession with superheroes, religion, and Bardolatry could, in one fell
swoop, be accounted for, I agreed with Gayle that Peter would be his name.
Our second
child, Jeremy, takes his name from the fact that Jeremy is a name we happened
to like and hadn't been spoiled by any bratty kids that either of us had taught
over the years. There isn't a popular superhero who shares the name, nor is
there a strong biblical connection (Jeremiah is the closest). He's not in
Shakespeare. As the middle child, he gets the shaft.
When it came
to our third boy, we were, again, undecided. Too many of the names that we came
up with were satisfactory, especially when you add in that more years had
passed since the naming of the last boy, and so more students had ruined names
forever for us. (This is a teacher malady that extends to just about everyone
I've talked to, by the way.)
I was
reluctant to land on the name William, since it's so obvious where the name
came from. Sure, we've some family names going back that touch on all our boys'
names, but none of them provided the actual inspiration. No, calling Baby #3
'William' was Bardolatry, pure and simple.
Now, the name
William does come with some
non-Shakespearean baggage. It means 'defender', and, since I'm Mormon and
religious, I thought 'defender of the faith' could also be apt. Also, it's a
fairly popular name, doesn't have spelling problems (unless you make them
yourself), and it suits well enough for a name.
So we picked
it.
The first
couple of days of his life, I cradled William in the crook of my arm and read Twelfth Night aloud to him. Gayle took
some baby pictures of him cradled by copies of Shakespeare--Complete Works as well as individual
titles. I occasionally quote a line or two at him, which does little, as he's
too young to understand any language, really. He hasn't shown any sort of
writing or acting proclivity, but that's not really the point.
I think the
reason it's significant for me to have named one of my children after William
Shakespeare is one of personal fulfillment. It goes along with the experience I
had in Stratford-on-Avon and seeing Shakespeare's grave, I think: It's a way of
connecting to someone who has been so instrumental in the way my life has
changed.
I recognize that
there may be something unhealthy about my interest in the Bard. Aside from this
pretentious memoir, it's obvious to most anyone who talks to me for any length
of time that I've Shakespeare on my mind almost all of the time, in one way or
another.
This isn't to
say that William Shakespeare the man is what I hope my child becomes. Not even
close--our best guess about him is that our 'Sweet Swan of Avon' was a rather detached
father, cold businessman, and aggressively
litigious. Still, in terms of affecting the world for good, my actual baby
William could do a lot worse than seeking the type of life-changing reach that
the baby William Shakespeare would grow up to attain.
I don't know
where else this matters, of course, in terms of the greater narrative of my
time as an unapologetic Bardolator, save that such passion--or, perhaps more
closely, obsession--evokes all sorts of responses.
I'd like to
consider that there's some deeper meaning to picking Shakespeare to be the
namesake of my last child, but I can't stir up much more than what I've already
said. Maybe the big takeaway is that it's hard to name kids, particularly for a
teacher, so one may as well go with a part of teaching that is liked.
Well, at
least I didn't name him after Jane Austen. That could've made life more
difficult for him than I would want.
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