What’s In A Name
That question of “what’s in a name” floated on the air in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet when the young lovers pondered the weight of words. The author mused and riffed on the truth that the essence of a person or object is not determined by a label. A rose would still smell as sweet regardless of whether we call it Rosa rubiginosa or “on special today."
This truth slipped past me in my mid-teens back when I was fronting an eight-piece horn band. We were beginning to make some noticeable noise in the Detroit music scene. Somehow, I got it in my head that I needed a stage name - something cooler than the given moniker I had worn since day one.
I was not as fortunate in coming up with a new name as Gordon Matthew Sumner. Apparently, the bass player for the Phoenix Jazzmen favoured wearing a black and yellow striped sweater to gigs. A bandmate thought he looked like a bee and nicknamed him Sting (better than Wasp). The Sting name stuck.
I, meanwhile, was playing with the uncool Herman High School Concert Band. One of the music publications we used for warming up was written by a guy named Maurice Taylor. I wasn’t so drawn to Maurice as a hip name, but I liked the Taylor part. For a wee bit, I tried on the jacket labelled G. Allan Taylor. (Allan being my middle name). It didn’t fit. Trying to be something other than who you’ve been all your life might work if you’ve landed in Hollywood where nobody knows you. In the blue-collar city of Windsor, G. Allan Taylor came off as pretentious.
Mind you, name-changing did work for Caryn Elaine Johnson. As a young actor at the San Diego Repertory Theatre, Caryn Elaine Johnson demonstrated a flair for comic timing and passing gas. Her peers drew comparisons between audible releases and the infamous whoopee cushion. Subsequently, Miss Caryn became Whoopi Goldberg.
Fast forward to fatherhood. When my twin sons arrived, we gave them names wrapped in hipness. Miles and Curtis Diggins. Yes, a nod to two godfathers of jazz and soul: Miles Davis and Curtis Mayfield. The next two children were gifted names that wouldn’t be found in the bins of Sam the Record Man. Their unusual names were intuited by my partner, Catherine. The name Aumen was inspired by the Sanskrit word Aum, meaning “the Sound of the Universe.” No pressure kid! Our daughter was named Ardyn. In some interpretations, Ardyn is associated with the concept of fire, implying a flame that burns through time and cannot be extinguished. Fittingly, she does seem to be blazing her own path with preteen fire.
These days, when my children aren’t calling me Supreme Ruler of the Universe, they and my grandchildren refer to me as Papa G. I like the ring and rhythm of it. Papa G. comes with a warmth but also a wink. How it might work as a stage name might require pairing it with the right kind of band name.
Papa G. and the Prophets of Pocket
Papa G. and the Funkyard Dogs
Papa G. and Groovy Gravy
Papa G. and the Mystic Monks
What’s in a name? Turns out, a whole lot: memory, melody, family, legacy, biography, and personality. Or, as the Zen master and teacher Thich Nhat Hanh, put it: “call me by my true names.”