What's in a Name? (Lynn Kerstan)
“And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field....”So it began. Well, I’m presuming he was providing species names like dogs and cats and canaries, not dubbing individual beasties Fido or Fluffy or Tweetie Pie. Practically speaking, Adam couldn’t name every form of non-plant life, of which there are many millions, but the biblical passage does signify that the human need to give names is hard-wired in us.
Most significant, I expect, is the naming of children. Parents consult books for the meanings of names, consider family names, think about people they admire and wish to honor, even wonder if great-uncle Ezra would be kind in his will to a toddler namesake. And of course, there are the “what were they thinking?” names. I used to enjoy chef Jamie Oliver’s TV shows, but what persuaded Jamie and Jools to name their daughters Daisy Boo, Poppy Honey, and Petal Blossom Rainbow? Do they have any clue how the mean kids in school will torment their poor daughters? Another child is due in the autumn, and we can only shudder at what J&J have in store for him or her.
I didn’t know my own real name until 7th grade. Thought it was Len. Yawn. Turned out I was christened Helen, after my mom, but the parents chose to call me by the second half. Coulda been worse. I might have been Hel. I changed to Lynn a couple years later when I met a baseball player named Len and decided to feminize the spelling.
Me and my mom, on the day I got my next name.In the convent, I was expected to adopt a “name in religion” and asked to submit three names for consideration. My first choice (which I got) was Sister Michael Damien, after the warrior archangel and the missionary priest from Belgium, Father Damien, who ministered to the lepers on Molokai until he contracted the disease and died.
Always a fan of heroic guys (or angels) I admired his courage and devotion (of which I have practically none). Long after leaving the convent, I made a pilgrimage of sorts to Kaluapapa and what remains of the leper colony to which Damien devoted himself.
Here’s me at his grave, in which he is (for the most part) no longer buried. His remains were toted back to Belgium in the 30's, although his right hand was re-interred here in the 90's.
I hadn’t realized that getting to his grave required a 2 ½ -hour mule ride down a precipitous cliff, during which I decided to buy a cottage in the colony rather than endure the ride back up. Persuaded the upward direction was not nearly so scary, I reluctantly changed my mind, only to discover (no way to turn around) the persuader had lied. Nothing is sacred! Well, except Father Damien, who was canonized Saint Damien in October 2009. Naming pets is less controversial or intensive. Okay, not for me. My first cat, acquired when I was in second grade, was Smoky. Later, my sister and I refined his name to Smoky Bowtie Beltbuckle Puddycat Eeknay, Esq. Otherwise gray, he had white spots where a bowtie and beltbuckle would be. He was a puddycat. And we were Yankee fans. Clearly, we usually have reasons for the names we give, but they are not always reasonable. Over the years,the names of my Siamese cats were drawn from an admired professor-mentor, Giles, and from literature: Phaedra, Cassandra, Malvolio, and Dante. Terribly pretentious.
I also want to talk about authors and the naming of our characters, but that will also have to wait. This is a concert weekend with the San Diego Master Chorale, so I’m tied up with rehearsals and other associated tasks, like laundering the formal attire. Black pantyhose are soaking in Woolite as I type!
I’ve named them “The Iron Maiden.”


Patricia Potter
Tara Taylor Quinn
Maggie Shayne
Anne Stuart
Suzanne Forster
Lynn Kerstan

















