At one time people’s names were a reflection of their role within society and culture, not simply historical surnames passed on by tradition and birth. Accordingly, the Colliers were the makers of charcoal, the Coopers were the makers of barrels, the Smiths were the forgers of tools, Brewsters made beer, Chandlers made candles, Faulkners were falconers, Glaziers were glassmen, Masons were bricklayers, Sawyers ran saw mills, Wainwrights made wagons, Websters operated looms, and so on.
In ancient society, a male born into a family of Smiths became a forger or blacksmith himself, as did his sons and their sons. One’s name was more than just what one was called, it was one’s calling, and while life’s options were limited by such a birth, society was assured of filling the essential roles required for its operation.
In modern society, names convey less information, and the disassociation of name and occupation is virtually complete. This is not to say that names and occupations don’t align themselves from time to time; I’m sure there is a Baker out there who makes bread for a living or a Wheeler who drives a truck. More often, though, I see a relationship between name and personality. For example, I know a Stern who’s tough, a shy Meek, and a Sweet who is just that.
A new twist on names has emerged with the Internet, namely that of choosing screen or e-mail names. I’ve seen many e-mail names related to occupations, such as TireGuy, PastryMaid, Wordsmithy, Hackboy, and WindowWizard. Screen names vary on blogs and postings, often reflecting attitudes or emotions, such as AngryDemo, Patience55, Holdingtight, WhoCares, and NvrMnd. After generations of inherited names, there is now an explosion of self-made names intended as statements of belief or allegiance.
I once knew a man who swore he could tell everything about people from the letters in their names. He assigned numbers to each letter, and after adding them up and dividing by the number of letters in each name, he would proceed to ascribe particular characteristics to a person. Obsessed, he proceeded to analyze each person upon being introduced. “Larry,” he said, “That’s 12 plus 1 plus 18 plus 18 plus 25…divided by 5 puts you on the cusp of 14 and 15!” He sounded excited. Then his eyes narrowed, like he was peering inside my skin, and he whispered, “What’s your last name?”
We have but one legal name, but many of us have nick names; I’m Lawrence, but I’ve been Barney, Bean, Larry Narry, and Littlebear. For a short while, I was Fang, but that was when my adult canines grew in above my “baby” canines. My dentist pulled the babies out, and my new nickname went with them.
Things are given names so that others understand what we are saying. Names themselves, of course, are nothing more than arbitrary vocalizations meant to designate something that has no inherent name; therefore we assign it one. And we can go deeper still, because not only do things have no inherent names, but lacking the distinctions born of consciousness, things do not exist separately to name at all. Thus it is that names have power precisely because they are tokens for the unnamable source of being that we are.
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