Names

A story about a name.

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What’s in a name? Oh, many things, as expectant or new parents might say. It has to been something that will thrive for years, and the name will carry itself and the person for years after. So, what is in a name?

To start, experience. Or rather, the experience—a name needs to tell the story about a person, but nondescriptly—it must show who they are, what they’ve lived for, or will in the future. Surely everybody has had one of two ‘experiences’, per say, and those who haven’t, well, haven’t—and end up with names such as, Herman, or Ned.

Bland, and dry.

Which brings us to the secondary object in a name: pizzazz. Some might say that ‘pizzazz’ is a made up word, a word used for selling a new action figure to five year olds or a man using the word in a presentation at is cubicle office presentation to add a little ‘spice’. And that is what it is—spice.

Having pizzazz to your name is something hard to achieve. Doing it classily is a difficult task, and many people fail. It’s the people with the names like Charlotte or Audrey or Liam that have that certain pizzazz.

And lastly, but certainly not least, people have to have their own person in their name. Of course, this is just a figure of speech—it would be very difficult to fit a person inside six or seven letters. The person has to scream its name, without raising its voice. The person has to fit into its name—and people have to know who they are before they introduce themselves.

This, my friend, is the most difficult of all.

He told his son this. The boy (or rather a man) was practically falling asleep hearing the father’s words go on and on. “Son, are you listening to me?” He asked finally.

Mutt shot right up, adjusting himself and sitting up straight. “Yeah, yeah,” he lied, waking up now because he had to. “Sorry—I just don’t understand the talk.”

Indiana sighed. “I’ve been explaining it for the past 15 minutes, you know.”

“And if you’d been a little more snappy, maybe I wouldn’t have to pinch myself to stay awake, you know,” he mocked. “Anyways, what do you want to know? Where my name came from?”

“I know your real name—Henry—but why Mutt?”

He sighed. “Okay, so there was this dog…”

Under his breath, Indiana muttered, “Like father like son…”