Name Game: Amelia felia fo felia, AMELIA

I’m not sure whether Annie and Kevin chose a name for their bun in the oven because they actually wanted to right NOW, or they reached the tipping point (or boiling point) with my calling her Bun, or Bunny.

At any rate, pick the name they did and it is — drum roll, please: Amelia Tighe Kansy.

Annie tells me the Tighe is to keep the Tighe name alive. When I was a young lad in Nebraska, I thought the name was as rare as an honest game at a county fair side show. But when I got out in the world, I found it was as common as Smith (and honest side-show games remain as rare as snow in the Amazon jungle). Well, maybe not as common as Smith; Wesson, maybe, but not Smith.

Maybe I’d better say just that the name is a lot more common than I thought, and there even are several Mike Tighes. (I keep searching for a rich Tighe who’s willing to share with a slug of the same name, but haven’t found any yet.)

The name also reminds me of my cousin, Tighe. Tighe Ladd. Yup, that’s right, his parents gave him the first name of Tighe to honor Grandpa Doc and to Tighe one on to that branch of the tree.

I’ve got to admire Tighe because, although it’s an honorable and cool name, I bet he has endured the mangled pronunciations we all do. Every once in awhile, somebody gets it right, with just “TIE,” but others butcher it, to tig, tige, thigh, tig-HE, etc.

Fortunately, Amelia’s nickname will present no problem. Will it? Amy’s a no brainer. But some people spell it Amie. I suppose some my say Am, or AME.

Then Annie brought up a whole other possible tack: “We might call her Mel for short,” to throw people off.

Somehow, I suspect I’m the people they’d like to throw off the trail.

On the other hand, who would suspect that Annie’s first name is Antonia? Killed two birds with one stone with that one, honoring a friend named Antonia and another named Annie at the same time. Theoretically, since Annie is in the TV/film industry, she could nickname Amelia Mel as an homage to, say, f’rinstance, Mel Brooks of “Blazing Saddles” and other film fame.



On still another hand (how many hands do I HAVE?), Annie acknowledged the possibility that the name choice could change spontaneously. What if, for instance, the child pops out looking all the world like she should have a different name?

Such as, f’rinstance, Mongo in the same movie (apologies in advance for a couple of "s" words:



I HARDLY think that would be the case; I fully expect a delicate little flower who wouldn't THINK of cold-cocking an innocent old horse.

But, if she’s born on July 4, as scheduled, no telling WHAT they’ll call the little ladyfinger: Firecracker, Sparkle, Shooting Star, Caps or Snake. WAIT, I draw the line at Snake.