Humans are great ones for predictability. We categorize and stereotype. When it comes to naming our children, we choose names that we feel are befitting of a certain cultural standard or current style. When I was in grade school in the olden days, there were a lot of Bobs, Bills, Toms, Sandys, Pattys, Marges,and some exotics, like Michelle and Renee.
Let’s examine a few examples of what happened to, for instance, a Bill:
Bill would fall off his bike and skin his knees. He would only eat cereal for breakfast, no toast or anything. He would excel at baseball and later on shoot a lot of hoops, in hopes of becoming an NBA star, which of course never happened. Bill would grow up, become a doctor or attorney, and marry a Pam or a Sally. They would have kids, live in a glossy suburb, and maybe stay married.
Or what about a Marge: Marge would have sturdy legs. Her mother would plead with Marge to put her dirty clothes in the hamper to no avail. Marge might say her prayers every night, but she couldn’t be relied on to participate in saying grace along with the rest of the family at dinner. Marge would become a secretary and marry her accountant boss. They would remain childless, because Marge had “female problems.”
When I had babies, styles had changed. There were Whitneys, Merediths, Chads, and Daltons. These kids were typical, still riding bikes; but they carried backpacks and rode skateboards, too. We lived in a suburb with sidewalks, but most kids got driven to school. They asked for kiwis in their lunchboxes. The majority of them got good jobs and had families. Their kids are our grandkids.
These days, I am unable to attach a stereotype to a name any longer, because kids have names like Denyse, Cace, Alinia, Caden, Rebeknia, and Mylan. I have no idea how these children might grow up, but I will take a shot:
Mylan is gifted. His parents noted it when he was 18 months old and stacked his Legos in rows by color and size. He refused to wean from the breast until he could actually tell his mother he was finished with that whole phase, and he used complete sentences. Mylan is so gifted that he became an influencer on TikTok, and he feels confident he will be able to pay for his own college tuition with the proceeds.
Rebeknia has trouble with frustration. She bit her preschool teacher on the arm when they ran out of chocolate milk. Her mother is afraid of her, because Rebeknia is shrill when provoked. Rebeknia spends most of her time on Snapchat or gaming. She has ten thousand friends. She has met five of them in person. “Reb,” as her friends call her, has no desire to get a driver’s license or a part-time job. Instead, she is preparing for a life as a celebrity.
So what can the folks of my generation do? How do we cope with all of these unusual kids, this new world of gens X, Y, Z, or whatever they call them?
We name our dogs Bill and our cats Marge.