I have a simple first name, Liza, pronounced Leeza, with a “z”. You’d think that four little letters couldn’t cause a lifetime of daily explanation, but they do. Every day I am alternately Liza (as in lye-za), Lisa, Liva, Leda or anything else someone manages to “hear” when I say my first name. In grade school, after trying to teach the teacher how to pronounce my name each September, I would eventually give up and succumb to being called whatever the teacher decided I would be that year. So I spent an entire year as Lisa; another as Lye-za. Just last week the WLIW documentary Hometown Huntington called me Lye-za twice, much to the anger of many, many people who know me. (It was surprisingly sweet to have others incensed on my behalf.)
So when I saw the short article in Newsday today, “Baby Names Can Spell Regret, Research Finds,” I wasn’t surprised to learn that studies show the name on your birth certificate can traumatize a child all the way to adulthood. And that one in five parents later wished they had chosen a different name for their child. My own mother has said on more than one occasion she wishes she had called me Elizabeth, a family name. But while that would have perhaps made my life simpler, at least when it comes to my first name, I can’t say I’ve been traumatized. Annoyed, yes. Angry at the boss’s daughter who long ago who told me that I mispronounce my name. But mostly, just resigned. Truth is, I like my name and the fact that it’s unique. When pronounced correctly, it’s actually pretty, if I do say so myself. Besides, it could always be worse. I’m eternally grateful that my parents weren’t fond of the name Moon Unit.
Do you have any name stories to share? Any regrets about your child’s name? Let me know.
