What's in a Name?

It was around the time I was about eight years old - give or take - that I asked my dad why I had so many cousins named John.


My first-generation American dad sat me down and explained the traditional Italian naming ritual to me. Out of respect and admiration, he said, when the first-born male child was born into a family, he would be named after his grandfather. The same naming process was espoused for the first-born females in the family, who were expected to be named after their grandmother.


My dad came from a large family, and he was the baby; the last of seven boys. Indeed, my grandfather Giovanni - John, in English - had expected more than a few namesakes. So did my Nana Annunziata - her name Americanized to Nancy. And they got those namesakes alright.


In order to tell our same-named cousins apart during conversations, we devised a naming custom of our own, which was later even adopted by the adults. We identified each Johnny according to his location, so we knew who we were talking about. Included were Long Island Johnny, Staten Island Johnny, and California Johnny.


But all told, I actually have four cousins Johnny; three with roots in Italy and one, with Russian roots.

Adding to the John multitude, there are also Johnnys on my mom's side of our family. However, this cousin John is called Junior because he was named for his own father, my mom's brother, Uncle John. Junior actually named one of his own sons John, who is known in the family as John-John. He is called Triple-John by his friends ... no kidding.


If anyone is counting, there are seven Johns in my extended family: one grandfather, four cousins, one uncle, and one cousin once removed.

The Italian Johns, however, are outnumbered by Nancys, named for the family matriarch. The various Nancys are not differentiated by location, however, likely because the majority lived in Brooklyn. Instead, the Nancys are identified according to their dads. For the record, the Nancys include Uncle Jack's Nancy, Uncle Jess's Nancy, Uncle Tat's Nancy, Uncle Marty's Nancy, and my sister, Uncle Tony's Nancy.

For good measure, my brother married a Nancy. Our nuclear family, therefore, boasts two Nancys. So, once again if anyone is counting, my extended family includes seven Nancys: one grandmother, four cousins, one sister and one sister-in-law.


Is there no end to this family madness, I wondered? Apparently not, as I married into a similar family madness. When I started seriously dating my future husband Steve, and was introduced to his family, I realized he was named after his dad, Stephen. It seemed that in this family, as in my Russian side, sons were named after their fathers, not their grandfathers.


While dating Steve, I met the man to whom his sister Cathy was engaged. His name was Steve; yes, seriously. Not only was this the third Steve in a nuclear family, Cathy and Steve named their first born, a son, Stephen. I guess I should have known.


But as they say on television: "But wait; there's more!"


After coaching me through labor and delivery, and watching our son being born, my Steve had a pang of deep emotion. He asked if we could please name our new arrival, Stephen. I caved. And so, we welcomed the fifth Steve into the family.


All told, this average sized family of two parents and three kids generated two cousins Steve, two brothers-in-law Steve, and one Grandpa Steve. Different family, same madness, and not an Italian among them!

Well, so much for centuries old naming traditions. In this the 21st Century our grand family includes a diversity of names with no traditional or cultural ties: Elliott, Molly, Hailey, Victoria, and Max, among the many more. The upside ... when we call someone at a family function, only one person answers.

The family has sure traveled far from the old country, at least where names are concerned. But thankfully, not from Nana's lasagna recipe!