What’s in a name?

Odds are you’ve been named …to the dean’s list, to a baseball roster, or some such thing. It’s not always pleasant. You can be named on a subpoena, and eventually, we’ll each be a name on a tombstone.
I didn’t know how close we came to celebrating the Super Bowl victory of the “Possum Trot Chiefs” until this past week when the KC Star explained an urban legend about the city’s name.
Back in 1831, landowner Gabriel Prudhomme died and a group of investors formed the Town Company of Kansas in 1838. At that time the modern River Market area was practically nothing more than a loading dock on the river for Westport. The investors were anxious to start their own city but hit a snag when it came to choosing a name.
“A dry, old speculator” facetiously suggested Rabbitsville or Possum Trot. Even in those times, both of these names were met with silent contempt by most people present. Yet, as legend has it, Kansas City came within one vote of being christened Possum Trot.
Somehow, Possum Trot just doesn’t seem as witty as, say, “Tightwad, MO.” Instead, Possum Trot generates a folksy small-city mindset that undoubtedly would have inflamed an inferiority complex that KC sometimes shoulders – perhaps more than even a Super Bowl championship could eclipse.
Can a town named Possum Trot be the world champion of anything without a smirk? Can you imagine the late Coach Hank Stram, encouraging his team to keep matriculating on down the field, calling out that famous 65 TPT for a touchdown in Super Bowl IV if the acronym instead stood for “65 Toss Possum Trot?”
Names matter. This conversation can be of Biblical proportions (i.e. the longest name in the Bible is the Assyrian king Maher-shalal-hash-baz found in Isaiah 8:1 … move over, Nebuchadnezzar, king of ancient Babylon). On the other hand, short names cause problems, too (i.e. Johnnie Cash sang about a boy named Sue).
So, here’s my point: We looked forward to adding a ninth grandchild to our clan, a happy event which occurred Feb. 21. Most of the hoopla leading up to that special day wasn’t about guessing the gender (not in this modern age) but what name the parents would choose.
Our entire family peppered these expecting parents with so many questions that eventually they relented enough to reveal that the name would include the letter “L.”
That revelation was such a tease. So, driving the 90 miles back home from a visit to Warrensburg one night, we listed every name we could think of that included an “L,” an effort which tallied a list of well over 150. When we finally played out (about Hamilton’s city limits), we ventured a text to the expecting parents to ask if we had correctly guessed the right name. Their reply? “Yes.”
So, we had to wait along with everyone else until the little bundle of joy arrived. Her name wasn’t the one I expected nor was grandma’s choice even close. We just couldn’t seem to guess what name goes best with the names of her siblings Willa and Sylvia.
Although the suspense during the wait seemed intolerable, their choice is perfect: Claire … (from the feminine form of the Latin adjuctive ‘clarus’ meaning bright or clear). But to me, she’s our little Claire — with a head full of hair! Perfect.
P.S. — By the way, what’s the longest personal name ever used? Consider this: Hubert Blaine Wolfeschlegelsteinhausenbergerdorff Sr. (a.k.a. Hubert Wolfstern, Hubert B. Wolfe + 988 Sr., Hubert Blaine Wolfe+585 Sr., and Hubert Blaine Wolfe+590 Sr., among others) is the abbreviated name of a typesetter who has held the record for the longest personal name ever used.
Now, who says a Google search is just a waste of time?