What's in a Name?

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose/ By any other name would smell as sweet.” This most familiar line from “Romeo and Juliet,” Act 2, Scene 2, raises a sticky philosophical question. Even though logically a name is merely a label, Juliet knows that names carry a whole lot of significance. At birth, our parents give us a name that follows us through life. Sometimes, parents choose a name that does not lend itself easily to nicknames. Other times, parents choose a name, intending to call the child by a nickname. How many “Daniels” become “Dans” or “Susans” become “Sues”?

My father’s given name is “Billy,” not “William,” although over the course of his life, many well-meaning people have tried to rename him as “William.” When someone tries to give him the name of “William,” he notes that his name is “Billy.” I asked him if he knew why his parents chose the more informal “Billy,” but he does not know.

Different forms of “billy” are familiar—billy goat, billy club, hillbilly. Recently, I saw the usage “city-billy” in a newspaper article, so I decided to investigate the word “billy.” The first entry in the “Oxford English Dictionary” lists three different meanings: (1) fellow, as in companion; (2) fellow in a more general sense; and (3) brother. The “OED” notes, sadly, that “billy” and its corresponding feminine form, “tittie,” are both now considered “rude.” This meaning for “billy,” while of unknown origin according to the “OED,” seems to have first appeared in the Northern British Isles around the 16^th century.

The “Chambers Slang Dictionary” sheds some light on the possible origin of the name. It defines “Billy” as “a Protestant,” deriving from King William of Orange, the Protestant king who overthrew King James II. (Many dictionaries identify “Billy” as a nickname for “William.) How and when “Billy” took on its derogatory meaning is unclear. “The Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang” gives usages from the late 19^th century of “billy goat” as a “lecherous man.”

The “American Heritage Dictionary” defines “hillbilly” as “a person from the backwoods or a remote mountain area,” noting that it is “often offensive.” The “OED” defines “hillbilly” similarly, not noting its possibly offensive nature. According to the “OED,” usages of “hillbilly” first appeared around the beginning of the 20^th century.

Regardless, my father, Billy, is a most excellent fellow, and a Southern Baptist deacon, to boot. In addition, he was born in very rural Southern Mississippi. Whether his parents realized it or not, they named him very aptly, after a Protestant king familiarly known in his time as “King Billy.”

The Truth--Or Is It?

Belie: “to give a false representation to; misrepresent”; also “to show to be false; contradict,” according to “The American Heritage Dictionary.” Who among us has not falsely represented something—an action, a motive, a desire—at some time?

Shakespeare develops Sonnet 138, my all-time favorite Shakespearean sonnet, through a contradiction which depends on lies: “When my love swears that she is made of truth,/ I do believe her though I know she lies.” The male speaker of the sonnet pretends that he is younger than he really is while his lover pretends to be faithful to the relationship. The two people in this sonnet preserve the truth by means of lies. He knows that she is unfaithful, and she knows he is younger than he claims. They are admitting and accepting that they are both imperfect human beings.

The speaker resolves the situation in the final couplet: “Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,/ And in our faults by lies we flattered be.” This couplet turns on a bawdy pun. They lie together—they tell each other deliberate untruths--so that they can continue to lie together—make love.

Blanche DuBois in Tennessee Williams’ “A Streetcar Named Desire” Is “creative with the truth,” as well. When Mitch, whom Blanche hopes to marry, confronts her regarding this “creativity,” Blanche replies, “I don’t tell truth, I tell what ought to be truth.” Like the lovers in Sonnet 138, Blanche is older than she represents and has been sexually promiscuous in the past. She deliberately “creates” a version of her past self which she hopes will allow her to redefine her present self.

Sometimes we lie on purpose, with good intent. Sometimes we lie without even knowing it. Have you ever reminisced with friends or family and come up with as many different versions of an event as people reminiscing?

What is my point? Yahoo announced that it is shutting down its Yahoo Contributor Network effective the end of July, 2014. After wringing my hands over the loss of this publication platform, I took Rosie Heinegg’s suggestion to heart and have created a second blog, “Be-Lied,” which I am defining as “Surrounded by Stories.” It will be my own Personal Contributor Network, although I am kicking off the new blog with a story-telling challenge. “Be-Lied” will be mostly non-fiction, but my intent is to surround the reader with words, and let the reader sort out truth from fiction. “Be-Worded” will remain an examination of words in everyday life.

And that’s the truth!

Who am I? It's in the cards!

NOTE: I am posting an essay that I wrote in the early 1990's. (I could not find an exact date.) I does not deal with words, but with how society defines the individual through various cards. Initially, I intended to edit the piece to reflect contemporary life. However, I am amused at the slice of history that it provides regarding what is now archaic technology. Perhaps in the future, I will write a piece that reflects how the replacement for cards--keyring tags--reflects our lives in the mid-2010's.

Awhile back at dinner with friends, the subject came up in conversation of my membership in an organization devoted to kitties and good cheer.  As one friend expressed skepticism as to the existence of such an organization, I assured him I had a membership card proving it.  As I dug through my wallet in search of the elusive card, my friend expressed amazement at the number of cards I possessed.  Thinking everyone has as many cards in his or her wallet as I, I was amazed at my friend's amazement.  Ultimately, I found the necessary card and conversation moved on.

Several months later, I received notice from my book club informing me that since I have been such a devoted member, I had been exalted to Preferred Member status.  To prove my enhanced status, my book club sent me a card, attached to the bottom of the letter, with their convenient toll‑free number for Preferred Members, so we could order more books with less stress.  The card, in tasteful beige, also has my name and account number printed on it.  Below the card, I found a warning:  "Peel card off letter before using."  Carefully, I tore off the section of the letter with the card along the perforated lines for that purpose and tucked the whole assembly in my wallet, amid my myriad of other cards, pondering when I might actually use the card and thus rip it timely from its backing, and what would happen if I used the card without peeling it first.

In contemplating such an action, I reflected on Mojo Nixon's song, "Washing Dishes."  In the song, Mojo lists several conventional activities in which he will no longer participate.  One such activity is carrying an ID.  In situations which call for an ID, he claims he will simply say, "Hey, there, sucker, can't you see it's me, me, me?"  Recalling my earlier conversation with my friend, I reopened my wallet to see how many cards could testify to my existence.

My findings amazed me.  I have cards attesting to my social responsibility and indemnification, such as vehicle insurance cards, my medical insurance card, and my dental insurance card.  I have cards attesting to my identity, such as my social security card and two faculty ID cards.  I kept my old faculty ID card when new cards were issued because my old card identified me as faculty whereas my new card did not.  One never knows when one may be accused of studenthood.

I have convenience cards, such as a card allowing me borrowing privileges at a nearby college library.  That card cost me $20.  I have my personal New York Telephone calling card and an MCI calling card issued by my employer so that I might make personal long distance phone calls from my office.  Never mind that I have a personal calling card or that I might need to make business calls from my home.

I have cards from two video rental stores, even though my VCR has been broken for months.  I have an ATM card, which I got after months of taunting from my husband.  He could not understand why a medievalist technophobe eschewed interacting with computers rather than people.  The first several times I tried to use that card, either the machine was broken or some problem necessitated that I go in the bank and interact with people.

In addition, I have miscellaneous cards, which are nice to carry but mean very little, including my kitty organization card and a card indicating membership in a women's writing organization.  I found a Citibank VISA information card, with appropriate numbers for emergencies, such as if I lose my wallet.  I found an old Mark Grace baseball card obtained from a box of Post cereal.  I officially renounced the Cubs a few years ago, even scraping my WGN bumper sticker off my car and replacing it with an "I 'heart' my basset hound" sticker, after the Cubs front office paid Ryne Sandberg an obscene salary that even he is not worth (and has since given up) and traded Andre Dawson to Boston.  Finally, I found an assortment of miscellaneous business cards.  I have a charge card and a credit card, but I keep them separate for ease of access.

After perusing and sorting all my cards, I gathered them neatly and thoughtfully tucked them back in my wallet.  My wallet bulged, as if it were full of money.  Then, I remembered my book club card, which I am to peel from the letter before using.  Every month, I receive a return post card, to mark with my order.  Occasionally I wonder how much time will pass before I finally do peel the card and use it?  Or will I succumb to temptation, and use the card before peeling it?  And if I do, what will be my fate?