What’s in a Name?
I like my name. Anna. It’s short so it fits nicely on most forms. And it’s internationally recognized.
Originally from Sweden, I could easily have ended up with some name few Americans could pronounce. Like my mom’s name. After the birth of our oldest child, mom suggested we name our first-born after her: Ingegerd. Nice, but we were looking for a name both of us could pronounce.
And some American names wouldn’t work in Sweden. Like Lauren, which in Swedish translates to “the thighs”.
Or even worse: Ashley. Say it with a southern twang and it sounds like the Swedish word for a**.
And none of our kids would ever be able to marry Brad Pitt. In Swedish, Pitt is the word for a certain male body part.
My Indian neighbors named their daughter Shritee. Nothing wrong with that — if you say it slowly. But each time Shritee’s mother became annoyed with her daughter, the R disappeared, giving the name a whole new meaning.
When our third child was born, we wanted to give him a Swedish name. It’s always nice to name your child after your own father. Unless you’re living in the US, and your dad’s name happens to be Sixten. (Yes, just like the numbers.) For a short second, we considered naming our son the next best thing: Seven-Eleven. It’s internationally recognized.