Let's name names the old-fashioned way

By Gene Weingarten, Washington Post
Published July 15, 2007

Note to readers: Gene Weingarten is on vacation for two weeks. This column is adapted from an article that appeared in the Washington Post in 1997.

WASHINGTON - I was walking to the subway in the company of a co-worker, a woman I see every day. We live blocks apart. Her daughter and my daughter are close friends.

Striding toward us was a woman with whom I'd recently had a long and testy professional conversation. She is a giant in her field. I have known her and liked her for 10 years. We have had lunch together, and dinner.

The distances shortened. I felt a familiar panic. Introductions were in order.

"Ah, ah," I said.

The two women regarded each other politely.

"I, um," I added.

They regarded me quizzically.

"Er," I explained.

I could recall neither of their names.

Gamely, they introduced themselves to each other. Hands were shaken. My colleague and I continued to the subway in determinedly cheerful silence, pretending that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, that I had not just shown myself to be at best an imbecile and at worst disgracefully rude.

This has happened many times. I cannot summon names when required to. Cocktail parties become stressful almost beyond description, particularly office parties at which I must introduce people to my wife. She has learned to anticipate my slack-jawed mumblings, and simply bellies up to strangers and introduces herself. On three occasions in the last year I had to quietly implore someone to reveal the name of another guest who was approaching. Each time, it was the same name - Justin, a man with whom I have worked, off and on, for a dozen years.

I used to think this a sign of advancing senescence, or, worse, misanthropy; if I cannot recall names, it must mean that I think so little of people that their identities barely register. I was confessing this the other day to my friend Frank, the Philosopher.

"You are rejecting labels," he said.

Instantly, I saw things in a different light. A kinder light. Names are a phony construct, dispensed at birth, long before any defining characteristics have attached. Inevitably, the name proves inappropriate. Tina balloons to 300 pounds. Percival repairs refrigerators. The most feared linebacker in the history of professional football, a man who once said that what he most enjoyed in life was "when the snot comes from a quarterback's nose and he starts quivering on the ground" - this man is "Lawrence" Taylor. The most influential art critic of his era was "Clem" Greenberg. Alternatively, there was "Theodore" Bundy.

You just have to say the names to savor their inappropriateness. "Arnold" Schwarzenegger. "Gladys" Knight. The most ludicrous name of all time may well be "Humphrey" Bogart.

Frank was right. I am not forgetting people's names. I am electing to forget them, because they are without meaning. (I never have had trouble remembering Frank's name, because he is, in fact, frank.)

So here is my proposal. As are so many worthy things, it is stolen from the American Indian. I have modified it:

We eliminate names entirely. We call people what they mean to us. I would introduce myself as "Man Who Forgets Names." But others might call me something else. Yves Saint Laurent, for example, might call me "Man Who Dresses Like Blind Vagrant." A person's name would change, over time, with his or her achievements, appearance, etc. This system works. Do you think Mr. and Mrs. Domino named their infant son "Fats"? It is a great name. He earned it.

So, I would call my friend Pat, whose actual name reveals nothing, not even gender, "Short Woman Who Spells Well." My friend Laura would be "Neurotic Who Begged to Be in This Story." William Jefferson Clinton might be "Bulb-Nosed Former Leader of Free World." Michael Jackson could be "Man With No Face," or possibly "Dances With Tots."

My old friend Joel I would call "Man With Three Daughters," because, to me, that is his most distinguishing characteristic. But my friend Rich says he would call Joel "Man With Good Hair." Rich's head looks like a dust bunny.

You see the possibilities here. By what we call someone, we would be defining not only that person, but ourselves. The simple act of greeting would become an exercise in semiotics. On the street the other day, I would not have had to grope for names and face embarrassment. I knew precisely who these women were; they were a noted gossip columnist and the famously blunt-spoken boss of a national news organization. Here would be an opportunity both to impart meaningful information and at last demonstrate my warmth and humanity.

"Vile Assassin of Reputations," I could say, "I'd like you to meet my very good friend, 'Foul-Mouthed Tyrant.' "

Gene Weingarten's e-mail address is weingarten@washpost.com.

[Last modified July 13, 2007, 17:17:09]