Shakespeare Was No Dummy

By Lisa

Shakespeare asked, What’s in a name? And The Flying Scottolines answered:

Everything.

Last year, Mother Mary was revealed to be Mother Maria, after using the wrong name for eighty-six years. She was unmasked by TSA and the Florida DMV, so now you can rest easy. They’ve dealt with Mother Mary, and all that’s left is Al Qaeda.

By the way, she used to call them Sal Qaeda, but I told her they weren’t Italian.

And her name isn’t the only problem, historically. My father was named Frank, and so was my brother, which led to confusion around the house. So my father became Big Frank and my brother became Little Frank, and sometimes even Little Frankie.

My brother thinks that’s why he’s gay, and I believe him.

He was stuck with Little Frankie until he wasn’t so Little anymore, when he became Frankie and even opened a bar named Frankie & Johnnie’s.

There’s a hint for you, new parents. If you’re trying to choose a name for your baby, imagine that name on a bar.

If it works for a bar, don’t use it for your child.

We come finally to our present problem, which is Daughter Francesca. Her full name is Francesca Scottoline Serritella, which sounds like a federal indictment.

Mafia aside, the other problem is that it’s too long for a book cover, even if you just go with Francesca Serritella. Here’s another naming hint for new moms and dads. Instead of imagining your child’s name on a bar sign, imagine it on a book cover.

Don’t underestimate your kid.

Despite your best efforts, they may actually accomplish something.

And also, give them a name they can pronounce. Of course, when Francesca was a baby, she couldn’t say Francesca. Many adults can’t even say Francesca, including me, after a margarita.

I confess that I didn’t think of that when I chose her name. She was named after my father and brother, as well as my best friend Franca, who was named after her own father, Frank.

It’s a great name, okay?

So when Francesca was little, she pronounced Francesca as Kiki, and that stuck. Kiki has been her nickname for as long as I can remember, and everybody she knew growing up in grade school and high school called her Kiki.

So far, so good.

But starting college, she decided she wanted to start using her real name, and she introduced herself as Francesca. All her college friends called her Francesca, and in time, that led to confusion, because whether you called her Kiki or Francesca depended on when in her life you had met her, or if you’d actually given birth to her. We’ll leave aside for the moment that Mother Mary calls her Cookie, which sounds a lot like Kooky, and we both know who’s kooky.

Sal Qaeda.

Francesca doesn’t mind if I call her Kiki, but I’ve noticed it’s been a problem, for example, at the doctor’s office, which has trouble finding her file because I refer to her as Kiki, but they have her filed under Francesca. And it wasn’t so great the other day, when the confusion screwed up a prescription. Plus I’ve noticed the disconnect myself, when I talk to people and refer to her as Kiki, and then they meet Francesca and find her very nice, but they want to meet my daughter, Kiki.

Also, Kiki works for a bar sign.

Enough said.

Yet, still I persisted with Kiki. Until the other day, when I asked myself why.

Why did I cling to it, creating confusion? She had a preference, which she’d made clear, so why wasn’t I honoring it?

Of course, you knew the answer before I did.

What’s in a name?

Shakespeare asked that question, but he wasn’t a mother.

To me, Francesca was still my baby. But I’ve decided that has to end.

Because I want my baby to get the right prescription.

And also, for a better reason. Her growing up, through school and college, is the process of forging her own identity. She has the right to define herself, and it begins with her name. She doesn’t need to be reminded, every time we speak, that in my eyes, she’s just a baby.

Because she’s not, anymore.

She’s a smart and lovely young woman, with a name that doesn’t fit on anything.

And I learned an important lesson.

It’s not only new parents who have to choose a name.

Welcome, Francesca.

I love you, already.