THE POWER OF NAMES
Please choose carefully the words you say and those you don’t say because you may not know how important they are.
And undoubtedly, proper names occupy a special place among words.
In the Bible, it is written that God formed from the earth all the animals of the land and all the birds of the sky and led them to man to see how he would name them so that every living being would bear the name that man gave them.
A joyful, curious, and solemn expectation transpires on the part of those who created us, as when someone gives us a beautiful gift and, while we open it, they wait to catch our expression, full of wonder.
Man invented language like this.
He called things plants and animals, and through this act, he was given the authority to be a responsible ruler.
“Authority must be commensurate with responsibility,”
said Henry Fayol —
whereas:
“Responsibilities and honors,” my grandmother used to say.
They both are endangered quotes.
Anyway…
the man got busy —
worldwide, between 6,000 and 7,000 languages are spoken to date.
The Lord of the Universe let us do it…
yet it is extraordinary how He has intervened at times in choosing some names personally —
such as when —
Jacob became Israel.
Simon became Peter.
The son of Zechariah, whom his relatives wanted to be named after his father,
became John.
Sarai Abraham’s wife became Sarah, which means lady and princess.
Or when an Angel told Joseph:
“She (Mary) will give birth to a son, and you will call him —
Jesus!
Proper names are so crucial that the Almighty has ordered us not to name Him in vain.
He already knew how it would end, namely, how many wars.
men would fight fraudulently in “His Name.”
The proper name is the first means of identity.
A man without a name becomes like Ulysses.
“Nobody.”
Well,
I also happened not to feel comfortable with my name,
Francesca.
It seemed too long and foreign to me.
And as I grew up, I found myself in the age of whys.
I wanted to understand how and why my parents chose that name for me.
“Why didn’t I ask Mom this when she was still alive?”,
I have regretted it for a long time.
It happens that when people pass away,
questions that demand compelling answers suddenly arise —
Like a half sun on the horizon.
Why is it so critical to know why our parents gave us a certain name?
Because we feel the need to measure how much love and care it took them to choose it.
The particular care with which a name is chosen will make it the right size.
Where I live, the name of some older people is Ultimo (The last one) because they were the last son of eleven children —
born to low-income families —
struggling to feed their children.
“Last” is a name that parents chose more out of hunger than warm concern.
A name like a warning and, in any event, within a love perimeter line.
A child is not always given the right name.
Because people don’t realize how significant it is.
Sometimes we choose a certain name because it’s fashionable or to please an aunt who has no children, or because it is the name of the star of that soap opera that we like so much.
So it happens that common people have two names, like my neighbor,
and many others a nickname.
Because —
a name is like a pair of shoes that have to match the right handbag.
Because —
the name is like our second skin, and it is what remains of an invisible umbilical cord tied to our own mother.
It belongs to us just as our eyes and our hearts do.
I would have liked to have been Bruna.
Oh, how I would have found this name perfect for me!
Not because my father was called Bruno
But for the reasons, he was called Bruno.
Being dark and having a Creole complexion, heedless of light eyes — —
It seems to be an excellent reason to be called Bruno or Bruna.
"I am dark brown (Bruna) but beautiful, o daughters of Jerusalem, like the curtains of Kedar, like the curtains of Solomon.
Do not look upon me because I’m dark; the sun has tanned me.”
it is written in some ineffable verses of the Song of Songs.
One more reason to fall in love with this name*****
Anyway,
I began looking at the names of my siblings for a clue
as to why my name is Francesca.
First, I took into account Camilla, the eldest in the family, named after our maternal grandfather Camillo.
Federico and Alberto, second-born and third-born, respectively, have names that do not appear in the family genealogical tree.
I am convinced that my parents chose them simply because they liked them.
Finally, Maria Teresa, the last-born, was called after my mother’s beloved sister.
I was left alone with my name, Francesca, in search of an author.
My father had a brother named Francesco, of whom I knew neither voice nor face.
In fact, after the war, he had emigrated to South America and had returned to Italy in a coffin the year that the man landed on the moon.
There was no way that he could have got into my childhood memories.
It seems like he was a ghost.
But…
when I was born in 1957, my paternal grandmother was alive, dwelling with my family.
She had given birth to four sons and longed to have granddaughters…
(I became her favorite) —
In her heavy heart, a great desire to embrace her son Francesco once again.
“Why don’t you call the baby Francesca or Francesco?”
She must have asked my pregnant mum.
Dad, too would have welcomed the suggestion with joy.
The quite certain shared joy strikes my heart.
“Francesca … my name is Francesca,”
I spell my name aloud — -
it sounds marvelous —
“What a perfect name for me!” I laugh, happy to feel so loved.
