pink_ribbon_scars
10-21-2003, 06:12 PM
I gots three sons, Miller, Bud and Coors and three daughters, L'Oreal, Lancome and Revlon. :rolleyes:
Thinking of a baby name? Try Armani on for size
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By Jenny Deam
The Denver Post
October 21, 2003
Think of it as the ultimate product endorsement.
With American parents straying farther afield each year in the search for the perfect baby, a small but strange -- OK, let's face it, bizarre -- subtrend of naming children after prized possessions has emerged.
Meet my son, the car.
Or, hiking boot.
Or, can of peas.
According to Social Security Administration research, out of the 4 million babies born in 2000, 55 Chevys, 6 Timberlands and 7 DelMontes are about to enter preschool.
And that's just the boys. Let's not forget the girls. Consider the 25 Infinitis, 5 Celicas, 164 Nauticas, 298 Armanis and 21 L'Oreals -- yes, she's worth it -- who turn 3 this year.
Cleveland Evans, a psychology professor at Bellevue University in Nebraska and longtime member of the American Name Society, is credited for spotting and documenting this trend.
A 25-year fascination in baby naming led the professor (who has no children of his own) to hook up with a Social Security researcher who had run a special computer program. From it, the researcher analyzed all the babies born in 2000 and their names, culling from the list the weirdest of the weird.
>From there it was just a matter of a good working knowledge of the liquor aisle and car lot.
For example, while the name Sky (or Skye) has been a possibility for a while now, Evans knew he was dealing with a specialized taste when he ran across 29 little Skyys -- the spelling a tip-off to an apparently inspirational relationship with vodka. Six were boys, 23 girls.
Or, perhaps, it was an after-dinner cognac that put those millennium parents-to-be in the mood for love. Seven boys born in 2000 were named Courvoisier. And if some names reflect the conception, others say a little something about a painful labor and delivery. Five children were named Darvon.
"These aren't even the weirdest ones," Evans says. For a name to make the Social Security list it had to appear somewhere in the country at least five times.
So much for the little boy in Texas whose parents named their son ESPN (pronounced Espen). As far as Evans knows only two babies in 2000 were named after a sports network. The other ESPN was reportedly born in Michigan a few months before.
Evans has quantified the product-as-baby name list only once as the Social Security Administration now only releases the most popular names rather than the oddest.
Still, plenty of other evidence suggests parents today are stretching more than a yoga master to name their offspring.
Some names have distinctly regional flavors. In an analysis of babies born in Colorado in 1998 (those now entering kindergarten) Evans found not one, but two, named Buckshot. They were boys. Another child was named Annex. It was a girl. It is unclear on which side of the growth debate her parents were aligned.
So what exactly does this say about us as a society?
"Hey, we live in a material world. No matter what you might think of it, there's no escaping it," says Janette Benson, an associate psychology professor at the University of Denver who specializes in early childhood development.
"Names carry weight and value," she adds, "What children are named reflects more about the values of the parents than their children."
In Puritan times, she says, people gave their children inspirational names, perhaps hoping they would live up to ideals such as Hope, Charity or Faith.
Yet while ideological baby naming may have been around for centuries, Benson is not so sure it translates well into the age of eBay. "Whether you want your child to live up to the ideals of ESPN or Del Monte, whatever those might be, is unclear," she says.
Evans, too, says he has had some concern over this trend and what it all means. "I do worry sometimes that parents are giving the message that children are possessions," he says.
Still, he adds: "At least they tend to name them things with a positive image. In terms of cars you don't see them naming their child Yugo."
Of course, some say spelunking for the most original baby name can go too far. In 2001 a New York couple offered the naming rights of their third child to the highest corporate bidder. They figured the endorsement cash could come in handy for future college costs. In the end, though, negotiations broke down and they named their son Zane.
They said it was short for Zany.
Copyright (c) 2003, Chicago Tribune
Thinking of a baby name? Try Armani on for size
--------------------
By Jenny Deam
The Denver Post
October 21, 2003
Think of it as the ultimate product endorsement.
With American parents straying farther afield each year in the search for the perfect baby, a small but strange -- OK, let's face it, bizarre -- subtrend of naming children after prized possessions has emerged.
Meet my son, the car.
Or, hiking boot.
Or, can of peas.
According to Social Security Administration research, out of the 4 million babies born in 2000, 55 Chevys, 6 Timberlands and 7 DelMontes are about to enter preschool.
And that's just the boys. Let's not forget the girls. Consider the 25 Infinitis, 5 Celicas, 164 Nauticas, 298 Armanis and 21 L'Oreals -- yes, she's worth it -- who turn 3 this year.
Cleveland Evans, a psychology professor at Bellevue University in Nebraska and longtime member of the American Name Society, is credited for spotting and documenting this trend.
A 25-year fascination in baby naming led the professor (who has no children of his own) to hook up with a Social Security researcher who had run a special computer program. From it, the researcher analyzed all the babies born in 2000 and their names, culling from the list the weirdest of the weird.
>From there it was just a matter of a good working knowledge of the liquor aisle and car lot.
For example, while the name Sky (or Skye) has been a possibility for a while now, Evans knew he was dealing with a specialized taste when he ran across 29 little Skyys -- the spelling a tip-off to an apparently inspirational relationship with vodka. Six were boys, 23 girls.
Or, perhaps, it was an after-dinner cognac that put those millennium parents-to-be in the mood for love. Seven boys born in 2000 were named Courvoisier. And if some names reflect the conception, others say a little something about a painful labor and delivery. Five children were named Darvon.
"These aren't even the weirdest ones," Evans says. For a name to make the Social Security list it had to appear somewhere in the country at least five times.
So much for the little boy in Texas whose parents named their son ESPN (pronounced Espen). As far as Evans knows only two babies in 2000 were named after a sports network. The other ESPN was reportedly born in Michigan a few months before.
Evans has quantified the product-as-baby name list only once as the Social Security Administration now only releases the most popular names rather than the oddest.
Still, plenty of other evidence suggests parents today are stretching more than a yoga master to name their offspring.
Some names have distinctly regional flavors. In an analysis of babies born in Colorado in 1998 (those now entering kindergarten) Evans found not one, but two, named Buckshot. They were boys. Another child was named Annex. It was a girl. It is unclear on which side of the growth debate her parents were aligned.
So what exactly does this say about us as a society?
"Hey, we live in a material world. No matter what you might think of it, there's no escaping it," says Janette Benson, an associate psychology professor at the University of Denver who specializes in early childhood development.
"Names carry weight and value," she adds, "What children are named reflects more about the values of the parents than their children."
In Puritan times, she says, people gave their children inspirational names, perhaps hoping they would live up to ideals such as Hope, Charity or Faith.
Yet while ideological baby naming may have been around for centuries, Benson is not so sure it translates well into the age of eBay. "Whether you want your child to live up to the ideals of ESPN or Del Monte, whatever those might be, is unclear," she says.
Evans, too, says he has had some concern over this trend and what it all means. "I do worry sometimes that parents are giving the message that children are possessions," he says.
Still, he adds: "At least they tend to name them things with a positive image. In terms of cars you don't see them naming their child Yugo."
Of course, some say spelunking for the most original baby name can go too far. In 2001 a New York couple offered the naming rights of their third child to the highest corporate bidder. They figured the endorsement cash could come in handy for future college costs. In the end, though, negotiations broke down and they named their son Zane.
They said it was short for Zany.
Copyright (c) 2003, Chicago Tribune