What's in a name?

I’m sure everyone on earth already knows about this site, but I just discovered iGoogle and it is amazing. I really don’t know that much about it yet, but I can already tell I’m going to fall in love with it once I learn. Within one minute of being on the site, it let me personalize the best categories all on one page – temperature, clock, movie listings, news feed – and it gave me a folder for every category I told it I wanted.

I got so excited with the site that I decided to get a gmail account so I can just check my email directly from that same page (a marketing strategy that clearly worked on me and a whole bunch of other people I know).

So I went to the gmail setup screen and typed in my full name. I also typed in my screen name, which is just my full name with no spaces. There was an option to “check availability.” I did, and for the first time in my life, “samaralitvack” is already taken. OK, so then I try “samararose” and IT’S already taken. THEN I try “samararoselitvack” and IT’S already taken too.

People, I call bullshit on this. I understand that Samara is not really as unpopular of a name as I once thought it was. It is a unique name and I am very happy with it. At least once a week I hear, “Oh, Samara… what a pretty name,” and I am appreciative of everyone who says that, because I agree that it is a very nice name. I love it very much.

But getting comments just about every week for my whole life… it actually gets quite awkward at times.

“Oh, Samara. What a beautiful name! What is that?”

My response is always the same.

“Thanks. It’s Hebrew. It means ‘guarded by God.’”

A few years ago, when Saddam Hussein was arrested in Iraq, he was arrested in a city called Samara. (I know, not a great thing to be famous for, but there are some even cooler things coming up later.)

I looked up the Arabic meaning of my name, and it means “belly dancer.” I can deal with belly dancer. Belly dancer is cool, sexy even.

Don’t get me wrong, being guarded by God is amazing. But being a belly dancer is AWESOME, so it was pretty exciting news, to say the least.

“It also means other things,” I’ll say, if there’s an awkward silence. I’ll search the stranger’s eyes for interest. If the silence continues, I’ll hit my schpeel.

“In Arabic, it means belly dancer.”

I’ll smile and nod. They’ll still say nothing.

“And you know those little things that fly down from maple trees? Those little helicopter things that kids love? That’s called a Samara too!”

I’ll smile and nod.

Usually at this point, the conversation comes to an awkward end. Sometimes, on rare occasion, a light bulb will go off above said stranger’s head

“Isn’t that the city where we caught Saddam?” someone who didn’t fight in the Iraq war will ask.

“Yes,” I will answer.

“It’s also that psycho girl from that movie! What was that movie?”

“The Ring,” I will say, mind racing for some other topic to discuss.

I’m not very fond of this movie. I don’t like scary movies, for one. I have a thing about adrenaline rushes – I hate their guts. But this movie in particular, which I have never seen, really ruined an entire semester of my life.

I was waiting tables at Applebees and boy was it fun. Of course this was one weekend when our general manager was on a “wear your nametag” kick, so I was stuck putting it out there for the world to see.

It would have been a total waste of breath to complain about said nametag, because it was a corporate rule and I was on the corporate training team. Any rule I complained about would have been thrown back in my face. I probably wouldn’t have said anything anyway – I only complained about things that were really stupid and unnecessary. I understand the necessity of nametags; I couldn’t refute it.

Imagine trying to keep your cool in a job you already don’t like (but you have to take because you need the money). Imagine keeping a smile on your face as you wait on high school kids after-football parties, groups of gender-divided college coeds who just left the movie theater across the street.

“Oh my gosh! Look at her nametag! Did you do that for the movie?”

My smile becomes a grin. “No. That’s my real name.”

“Shut up! That’s your real name?”

Grin becomes blank stare.

“I bet that sucks, having that name! I bet people keep asking you about it, huh?”

Blank stare becomes frown. “So do you guys want virgin strawberry daiquiris and half-price appetizers or what?”

(A little restaurant humor for anyone who’s ever worked an Applebee’s happy hour.)

I guess my point is, having an unusual name has its ups and downs. But these days, celebrities name their children the most random nouns and verbs and adjectives... I can only imagine what these kids will go through, however I believe I may have a better idea than most people.

I spent the last two weeks of every elementary school summer vacation dreading going back to Hal Henard. I loved the school and I loved my friends but I was horribly shy. That first day back to school – with a new teacher and new classmates – was very intimidating.

I would sit with someone I knew, even if I didn’t know them well. As the teacher would call names off her roster, children in the classroom would raise their hands. Sometimes they had to say “here,” but that was nothing compared to what I’d have to say.

At about the Js or the Ks, I would start holding my breath. Sometimes there were several Js, but K and L almost always went quickly. The teacher would stop her methodical name-calling. Her face would scrunch up and her head will cock to one side.

“Sssss… Sssss… Suh…. Ssss Samra? Samra Livik?”

I would raise my hand, praying she’d go on to the next name.

“Samra? Am I saying that right?”

“No, ma’am. It’s Samara.”

“Samaria? Speak up. Samaria Livick?”

By this point, my olive cheeks are burning and the eyes of 20 students all turn to me.

“Samara… Litvack…”

It was mortifying.

After various amounts of banter, each of my teachers eventually got my name right. I’m happy to say I never met a teacher that didn’t take the time to learn it perfectly. (Until college, where teachers could care less what my name was. Half the time I didn’t know theirs either, though.)

But there was one instance, where people kept screwing up my name so badly, I changed it.

When I first moved to Chattanooga, I was ready to get out of the restaurant industry. I got a hit on careerbuilder.com for a sales manager trainee position at a furniture store. It seemed an unlikely fit, but I figured if I could wear real clothes instead of a uniform, I’d be happy.

Anyway, none of the guys that worked there could say my name. Well, the warehouse guys could, and the other manager trainees could too. But the two managers just couldn’t get it right.

So one of them suggested everyone call me “Sam.” I wasn’t too tickled with that – it took away a great conversation piece with customers. (I needed ice breakers. I was horrible at approaching people.) But they said Sam would be easier for customers to remember – which I understood the logic of, so I didn’t complain.

I felt so liberated when I landed my job at the paper a year later… for many reasons, the most relevant of which is that I got to become Samara again. Ah, what a sigh of relief.

The point of all this (yes, I do have a point – I just keep getting sidetracked) is that having an unusual name has its ups and downs. And I believe some parents-to-be could gain a little insight from my perspective.

I can only imagine the excitement a parent feels at this stage in the game. My creative side would be in HEAVEN if I got to pick a child’s name… not to mention painting a nursery, buying clothes and toys… enjoying the last few solid nights of sleep I’d be getting for several years…

But before the parents-to-be get whisked away in all the excitement, they should consider the fate they’re assigning their child when selecting his or her name.

My name is not that weird, in the grand scheme of things. If you google me, you will find a few things I’ve done and a lot of things other Samaras and other Litvacks have done. Thousands of other people have either the same first or last name as I do. On a broad scale, it’s not so different.

However, if your child’s name is Harley Davidson, you can guarantee a google search will never land you what you are trying to look for!

(I use this example in honor of my favorite Guiding Light character, Harley Davidson Cooper. I love Harley and I love GL and I really miss watching my stories every day.)

I’m not totally against weird or random names. I’m good with Apple. I absolutely love Cash. But I think Orange and Cheddar would be totally out of line.

All I’m saying is perhaps parents should consider the effects eccentric names will have on their children. For me, I think my name forced me to speak in front of people at an early age. I think that while I remained shy, I had an underlying sense of confidence that was a direct result of that first day of every school. But if I’d had a name that kids would have laughed at, I would have burst into tears in front of them every year.

Unique names can be a great asset to children, if they’re chosen tastefully, respectfully and with a lot of consideration.

I guess the biggest point I should stress is that a lot of parents are Michaels and Ambers and Melissas – and Joneses and Smiths and Johnsons – and they may have always wished they had more eccentric names. Unique names are an amazing gift to give your children. But keep in mind that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side.