BEWARE: I Can Find Out What Your Name Means

The internet is filling up with sites that allow you to search out family names and past history. Various new research projects also go on right now. In fact for many years now there has been an increasing interest in roots. Soon we will have to change our names if we want to be left in peace. So I want to get a few things straight, here, right now.

We are all born into names. I guess that is the first point to make. We do not usually choose our own names. We should not need to suffer the history of a family name that was forced upon us. But this way of looking at things is not very exciting at all. Better to joke about such things and just accept the inevitable. Our names haunt us always. Others will make sure of that. We are always the butt of jokers. If we take it all too seriously we are lost.

Do you remember the jokes that talked about ”knock, knock – who is there”? The poor girl with the name of Lydia was then replied too like this: Lid of your dustbin. Lydia Dustbin is really a no win situation. This our Bucket family knew. So our Hyacinth always insisted that we call her ”Bookay” or ”Bouquet” or something like that. She was not just a TV programme she was a living example of rebellion against the given family name. Who the hell wants to be called Bucket I ask you.

In Finland to be called Bucket is just about as bad as being called Cabbage or even Vanhanen.

Just think about a Jean Julius Christian Bucket. It does not work does it? Sibelius is better than Bucket is it not?

It is all very childish I know but pity poor Amos. Amos who? A Mosquito, buzz..buzzz. Morning Buzz how are you bumbling today. Hope you will bee alright. Pity even more Isabel. You know the bicycle girl. Is a bell necessary on a bicycle? Of course, so just jump on here and lets go for a ride. Such were school yard jokes. But pity Isabel. I could tell worse but this is a family site and there may be under-age readers online.

As for my own family name? Oh dear me. Deary deary me. I really do not know if I should laugh or cry. But what do you expect from a family name that been about 900 years in the making? Do you really expect that ”we” will all be nice respectable aristocrats or friendly fishermen? Should we be homosexual writers? Should we be dancers on the Berlin stage? Oh dear me. Damit, next you will ask me to explain the royality connection. The Bowles family name is rather interesting if you are into that kind of thing. But what can I do but laugh?

So. Sorry to say no here. My shoulders are not big and strong enough to carry 900 years of history.

I have hired a few apartments in my time. When I have arrived to live there the door was already with my name. Once it was Bowset. Another time it was Bowlegs. I had clearly been riding that bicycle too much and too long. Who wants to be called Bowlegs I ask. Yet I did end up living in Lapland so maybe they knew something that I needed to learn. Anyway a bowlegs can walk long distances without getting sweaty in the nether regions. Think positive I say.

Imagine being a Finn with the name of Ivan. That is surely a terrible situation to be in. Even Boris is better.

In the south of Finland I once visited a graveyard by the church. The family name was Mort. Now, I ask, just what kind of start is that in life? Being born as a Mort is really unfair. In fact it is the death of fairness. Such a name is not easy to live with. In fact we might forgive any newborn baby that pops out at childbirth, to the greeting of ”Oh Hello Mr Mort”, for demanding to go back inside and to somewhere safer. Or at least with a future.

Anyway whatever the internet sites and the researchers say it is best not to take it all too seriously methinks. Just keep looking on the bright side of life. After all what is in a mere name?

In fact there is one old fashioned name that all of us male folk would be proud to have today. As Valentine's Day comes along this is even more appropriate. Everard. Oh what a blessing. If I were to have a new son what better start in life could I give him then to name him Everard.

Steve Bowles (student of the Benny Hill Academy)