How often do you get to name something?
I named my first car after my grandfather (Pete), my first child after my husband’s favorite uncle (Chuck), and our first (and only) family cat after Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (shortened to Rudy). I went the detailed and loquacious route with my first nonacademic book, and titled it Grab Life by the Bungees and 50+ Other Ways to Find Humor, Hope, and Happiness After Your Partner Has Died.
Naming is a responsibility not to be taken lightly.
My grandchildren call me Gigi, which is the name I suggested to everyone when our first grandchild was born. I like the name -- I thought it suited me. I didn't want to be "Grandma Nettles," and I didn't want to be subject to whatever comes out of the mouth of the first little one, resulting in a name like Moo-Moo or Goo-Ga or MeeGaw or whatever children make up when they're first learning to talk.
Recently, I was at my middle granddaughter Abby's cheerleading game. As I left, Abby said, "Bye, Gigi! Thanks for coming to my game!" Another grandmother in the crowd overheard, but she actually misheard and thought that Abby said, "Bye, Goo-goo!" So, the other grandmother, who apparently is named Goo-Goo, approached me and said, "Oh, my, are you a Goo-Goo, too?"
Oh, my.
No. I’m not a Goo-Goo.
But it doesn’t matter. Regardless of our names, I know, as so many other grandmothers know, there’s something priceless about the sound of three children running through my front doorway, shouting, laughing, and calling out that name we decided I’d be for the rest of our lives.
Whatever grandparent name is bestowed upon you when you become one, it’s the most precious name in the world --- even if it is a name that is also conferred upon a marshmallow-infused candy. (And who wouldn’t want to be a fluffy marshmallow-based candy?) There’s nothing sweeter than a grandchild, no matter what he calls you.
My late husband, Tim, knew that, too. More than anything, he loved spending time with our oldest granddaughter, Charlotte --- the only one of our grandchildren who knew him personally. She called him Pap-Pap, which is the same name Tim had for his own grandfather. Tim died when she was not quite two years old. I can still hear her giggling as the two of them played “peek-a-boo.” After he died, it seemed that she was constantly looking around for him. Her tiny little toddler voice piped up, “Pap-Pap!” whenever she saw pictures of him.
Her sister Abby was born three months after Tim died and her brother Nick was born two years after that. So, they never had the joy of knowing him. Charlotte taught her siblings, very early in their lives, his name, and what she knew about him. I like to share Pap-Pap stories with all three of them, so that his name means something to them and keeps his memory alive. And my oldest son Chuck --- their father --- takes them to places that Pap-Pap enjoyed, and shoots baskets on the driveway with them, just like Pap-Pap often did.
Now my youngest son Tommy and his wife Crystal are expecting a baby boy very soon. We all feel that big empty space --- the place where Tim should be as we all look forward to holding this new baby.
But we’ve delighted in discussing possibilities for his name.
Will he be named for his father? Or perhaps his grandfather? Will it be a traditional but currently popular name such as Theo, that his ten-year-old cousin, Charlotte, wants? Or a trendy 2026-ish one such as Hudson or Rowan? Will the child’s initials spell something, like his father’s does? (Tommy’s initials are T.E.N. --- just like his dad’s. Uncle Chuck’s initials are C.A.N. And cousin Abby’s initials are A.N.N. It’s a family tradition!)
Or will it be a completely unique name?
Recently, I’ve heard of some very distinctive names for youngsters. One of my grandson Nick’s best friends is called Bash. Some friends of mine have a new granddaughter named Noble. And another friend tells me that she recently became a great-grandmother to a little boy named Bear.
I love these strong, one-of-a-kind names that tell us who the child is before we even meet them.
As my friend says, “Yep, that’s what’s on the birth certificate, and he is perfect!”
Back in 1994, Tim and I had bantered back and forth for nine months about the name we wanted for our youngest child, and, as of the night he was born, we hadn’t settled on anything that we both loved. After 30 hours of intensive labor, I knew the answer --- Thomas Edward Nettles. He was named for Tim’s best friend and the best man in our wedding --- and the person who introduced us for our first date.
It was the perfect name.
Some names are surprises. (Heck, some people are surprises.) But no matter what his name is, this new grandson of mine will be cherished --- and treasured --- just as his parents were when they were born.
This Gigi can’t wait to meet him.
