Naming Christine

What's in a name? If it's naming your first born, it's everything. It's all about the parents and their values. It's about how they feel about life, it's about how they see their future. At some point, it's also about the child, and how they want that child to be thought of, remembered, and loved by others. You want the name of your first born to be perfect, and you fret and fuss over it more than the names of any additional children you may have somewhere down the road.

We didn't yet know (nor did we want to know) our first baby's gender. But, we knew that we didn't want our children to have crazy names, or something associated with a disgraced rock star, or someone with a bad reputation. We vowed not to make up a name, but to stick to established lists of names that were already acceptable to civilized people. Names that were hard to pronounce or easily mistaken for something kept in the medicine cabinet were out. It also shouldn't remind either of us of people from past relationships, in-law outlaws, or some fifth grade bully. It couldn't have already been used within the family, and yet, we wanted the family to approve of our selection. Having a good start, putting the child's best foot forward, giving our first born every opportunity to be initially welcomed through future doors, meant more to us than any decision we'd ever make as a couple.

We can no longer remember all of the names considered and then rejected, nor do we recall what we'd have selected had our first born been a boy instead of a girl. But we do remember where the name came from. My wife was a secretary at an insurance company where we lived at the time in Rutland, Vermont, and a coworker there often spoke of his wife, Christine. We also no longer recall the content of those stories, or whether they made us laugh or cringe. However, what I know is that I associated the name, Christine, with families that were above mine socially. For me, a girl named Christine would have been the smartest girl in the class. When I was growing up, someone named Christine would have been a girl that boys knew from summers at the pool -- a girl that they could only admire from a distance because she was so pretty that none had the courage to go and speak with her. A girl named Christine was a prize any boy would treasure and respect because she was above all others in every way.

Our family life didn't always seem like a heavenly picnic, and there were the usual teenage skirmishes. To say that I wasn't the best father I could have been, or wanted to be, is a gross understatement. I'm unable to count the hours that I reflect on how poorly I performed, or how badly I failed to meet the promises I made to my precious, beloved daughter the first time I held her in my arms. My hope is that time heals all wounds, and that with understanding, there might be a degree of forgiveness on her part. I'm grateful for the opportunity.

Today, our lovely daughter is 35-years-old, and the mother of a combined family with two children of her own, and two children from her husband's former marriage, a dog, and three cats. Add to the mix all of the things a busy, modern, overextended, self-sacrificing mom does for her kids, including dance classes, cheerleading practice, and visits to the gym while managing two of her own businesses. How she makes it all work is one of those Unsolved Mysteries. She's everything we always hoped she would be, and so much more. I'd like to think that she's become the woman she is because we named her Christine. But, in my heart, I know she did it all on her own.