What’s In A Name?

“Norman, oooh-oooh-ooh…” You remember that song, I’m sure. It may be the only hit tune featuring my name ever written. Or that ever will be. Perhaps with good reason.

Years ago I read an article that purported the names parents select for their kids have significant impact on their school, career and social success. Kids with “nerdy” names were prejudged negatively by teachers and peers and got lower grades. That struck a chord with me given that my name is none too cool.

I always told my mother, only half joking, I’d never forgive her for naming me Norman.

If you had a choice between Norman Dovberg and Lance Armstrong (or Rip Torn or Tom Cruise), which would you pick?

I can’t blame Mom completely because she was the offspring of Jewish immigrants from eastern Europe. In an effort to assimilate, many early 20th century Jewish immigrants gave their kids names that they thought sounded British. Unfortunately they often picked the nerdiest of the crop. Among the Sidneys, Irvings, Nathans, Morrises, and other popular early 20th century anglicized monikers bestowed on Jewish boys, there were the Normans. Those benighted offspring, the Jewish parents of my baby boom generation, blessedly named their sons Steven, Michael, Mark and the like. Cool names. Mom didn’t catch that wave. Let’s not even get into surnames, though the one I was saddled with has often, to my surprise, received compliments. Some have even called it beautiful. Okay, I never thought so, but I’ll take it.

I shouldn’t be too hard on my dear departed mother. She had her own name issues. When she was a young child she nearly died from dyphtheria and rheumatic fever. To trick the angel of death, Grandma changed her name from the lovely Toby to the decidedly uncool Matilda. Her last name began with the letter K, and at her first job she was addressed as “Miss K.” Soon everyone except her family, to them she was ever “Tilly,” knew her as “Kay.” The kicker was that at some point Grandma stated calling her Toby again, though no one else did. She probably figured by then Mom had so many names the angel was hopelessly confused. Mom never used Matilda except for official documents. Tilly, Matilda or Kay. Which would you prefer? Mom predictably preferred Kay. I wish she had drawn a lesson from that experience

As readers know I went through my childhood and early teens already none too self-confident. The name didn’t help. Then, just as I was pulling my self-esteem up by its bootstraps, Sue Thompson came out with her hit tune, “Norman.”

My college friend, Fred, just sent me an old video of Thompson performing it. Thanks a bunch, Freddy.

Courtesy of that little ditty, I was razzed mercilessly in high school and often over the course of my life. Perhaps my wish to prove that the name didn’t define me actually helped motivate me to work toward achieving coolness. I became a “jock” as well as a “cool” blues and rock guitarist. So maybe, like Johnny Cash’s “Boy Named Sue” I ultimately benefitted from parental name abuse.

To ease the tease, Fred sent, along with the song, a photo of pommel horse bronze medalist Stephen Nedoroscik, he of the nerdy eyewear, with his good looking girlfriend. Like him, I succeeded in snaring a lovely lady despite my nerdy name. In fact, my honey says she never gave the name a thought –given, I suppose, whatever the heck else about me attracted her. She says she actually likes my name, because it’s an uncommon name for an uncommon guy. This is proof love is not only blind, it’s also deaf. So how can I complain? Truth is I got used to the name over time, well, let’s say resigned to it, and it ceased to bother me. For the most part anyhow.

At this point I can listen to the song and the good hearted teasing of friends without cringing. I choose to focus on the fact that Sue Thompson was gorgeous despite her nasal, little girlish voice that made the object of her affections come across as nerdier still. Let’s not forget, though, she made it clear the nerdy named Norman was quite the stud.

Still, when I hear it, I can’t help but think, “Seriously, Mom, couldn’t you have come up with some other name?”