The namesakes

In the media studies department, I work with several distinctively named staff: Precious, Patience and Blessing (a man). Last July when I was in Africa, I met Honor and Gift, who worked at safari camps.

Novelist Alexander McCall Smith has captured the country’s sweet qualities, including the giving of such names to babies. I won’t be able to do better than the author who made his female detective, Precious Ramotswe, famous.

But I wondered about this name phenomenon when I awoke this morning. If people have names like those found in Botswana, does it mean they feel they have to live up to them? Do names alone inspire people to be their best? The “word” is powerful. That’s in part why I’m a journalist, because words make a difference.

All of this led me to wonder: For those of us who have worked in newsrooms in the States for many years, what names would we or our colleagues carry?

It’s your first day at work. “Welcome, I’d like you to meet Rage, the investigative reporter. Over here is Anxiety. In the corner over there is Stress; she’s on the education beat and had a late-night meeting. And over there? That’s Pout; he wants to do projects. You’ll be sharing the pod and a phone with Icky Habits. He’s a G.A.”
Hmm? What if we had names like Patience and Blessing? Would hard-boiled journalists smile more, relax more?
P.S. Rage and Anxiety (and all others) are fictionalized versions of people I met many, many, many years ago and have no relation whatsoever to the Sacramento Bee!