Names are a pretty funny thing. They’re how we label ourselves and the world around us without relying on long and complicated descriptors, such as “the guy with the weird nose” or “the dog with the fluffy coat… no, not that one… not that one, it has rabies… that one.”
I’ve always been interested in the meanings of names. My middle name, Breanne, is the only name that seems to have a clear meaning that can be found in those treasure troves that are baby name books, but at least I know it’s a name of Irish origin meaning ‘strong.’
My first name, Schayla, is not supposed to be spelled that way. When I talk to my parents about how they decided what to name me, they mentioned that they enjoyed the name ‘Shayla,’ but they decided to add another letter to it so I would have a guideline to learn how to spell my last name, Kirschman. That means that my name is just developed from the Gaelic name meaning ‘from the fairy palace.’
Meanwhile, my last name doesn’t exactly have a meaning, but ‘man’ is in there, and I learned from my father that ‘kirsch’ is a German word for ‘cherry.’ If we put that all together, it means that my name means something like ‘strong cherry man from the fairy palace.’ I have no idea what this means, but it invokes images of a buff lumberjack with fairy wings, and I think that’s incredibly cool.
My sister, meanwhile, has always felt that her name is not nearly as interesting as mine. Her full name is Sarah Reanne Kirschman, and she’s always felt that she was cheated when it comes to a thoughtful name, as nearly everyone she meets is named Sarah and her middle name just rhymes with that of her older sister.
I’d like to respectfully disagree. Sarah, of course, is the Hebrew word for ‘princess,’ while Reanne is actually a Welsh name meaning ‘great queen’ or ‘goddess.’ So not only is my sister a princess, but she’s all kinds of royalty and she may be on the level of Artemis or Aphrodite. And she’s still a ‘cherry man!’ She’s just breaking down all kinds of gender stereotypes. Lumberjacks can be goddesses now.
While I’ve always enjoyed my real name, nicknames can be a little awkward. When I was in school, a guy who constantly teased me (and yes, as I found out later, guys do follow the cliché and tease you if they like you instead of, you know, actually doing something sensible and talking kindly to a girl like a human being) gave me the nickname ‘shillelagh,’ which is a word pronounced ‘sh-lay-lay.’ It’s the Irish word for a fighting stick, and he thought it would suit me. I don’t know what to make of this. It’s not like I’m a terribly violent person. If I was actually handed a shillelagh, the most I could do is give someone’s knee a bruise. And I still definitely lean on the ‘flight’ side of the fight or flight response to stress.
I actually do use a nickname fairly often, though, and it’s just a shortened version of a username I use for pretty much any website. Some people I have met online instead of in person refer to me by it, and after a while I just got used to being called it. So used to it, in fact, that I sometimes have to stop myself and remind myself not to introduce myself in real life with a nickname that just loudly proclaims my nerd status.
A thing I’ve noticed while starting my work as a reporter is that I have a flaw that is even more challenging when I work for a newspaper: I am absolutely terrible at names. I know faces no problem. I can look at people and I know that I know them. I probably even remember how we first met (likely some sort of event at a school or auditorium) and how I handled the interaction (awkwardly, obviously). I just can’t for the life of me remember the name of the person I remember so vividly.
Sometimes when I run into someone I know at an event, when I’m getting information from a group and I’m confirming name spellings, that person will say “And of course you already have my name!”
It takes a lot of effort for me to say “Oh, of course!” and not run screaming from the entire situation. If I did that, I’d just have to add an extra ‘time I was awkward’ to the list of encounters I’ve had with the person.
Thankfully, the longer I spend doing this, the more I run into familiar people and the more confidently I can say that yes, I actually do know your name. In the meantime, persistence is key. Persistence and maybe just a written list of everyone I ever meet in this town.
