I named my son Colin for its simplicity—I wanted him to have a name that is easy to spell and pronounce, without being too common. Colin. It’s so simple and easy, isn’t it? Yet you don’t hear it every day. It’s perfect—exactly what I was looking for. Except that it turns out I totally overestimated the collective intelligence of society.
Frequently, when I tell people my son’s name, they respond as if they’ve never heard this name before—as if it’s so foreign, they can’t possibly even attempt to say it. When I spell it for them, they are still puzzled and regard me warily. And I just want to scream. Because. It’s. Only. Five. Letters. Other people—and this has happened several times, both to my husband and to me—think that I’m saying his name is Holland. Holland! That’s not even a name! Even the country doesn’t call itself Holland any more. I am floored that, given the choice, people would really believe I’d name my son Holland instead of Colin. Stupid people!
I hear Colin is a pretty common name in England and Scotland, and it’s not as if there aren’t famous American Colins lurking about. There’s Colin Farrell, the actor, and there’s Colin Firth—who plays Mr. Darcy! Every woman should know the name Colin because of him. There’s also Colin Kaepernick from the 49ers. I’m really pulling for him to become the first string quarterback, as I think that will help Colins everywhere by bringing fame and acclaim to the name. Not that my Colin will ever play football or be a quarterback. His brains are far too important for people to be trying to bash them in. He can take up golf, minus the wanton philandering.
There’s also former Secretary of State Colin Powell, but I must admit I’m not currently speaking to him, as I’m angry with him for changing the pronunciation of his name to that of an internal organ (from Cahlin to Coelin). Powell claims he changed the pronunciation to honor the heroic World War II hero Colin P. Kelly, Jr., but I think it was just inconsiderate. Powell could have used his high governmental position to perform a service to correctly pronounced Colins everywhere, serving as a kind of ambassador for them. A lot of people are hard on Powell for the whole WMD fiasco, but, heck, I can forgive a few missing grand scale weapons that could have obliterated the entire free world. Loads of people could make that mistake. His real crime is that Colins the world over are being called Holland, while Powell smugly insists on being referred to as the large intestine and does nothing to save them.
Actually, even though I have a good case against him that the Supreme Court would probably be willing to hear, I don’t actually blame Colin Powell. That would be ridiculous. After all, I chose my son’s name.
No, I blame society. They’re clearly not watching enough movies or football, or I wouldn’t be having this problem.
Frequently, when I tell people my son’s name, they respond as if they’ve never heard this name before—as if it’s so foreign, they can’t possibly even attempt to say it. When I spell it for them, they are still puzzled and regard me warily. And I just want to scream. Because. It’s. Only. Five. Letters. Other people—and this has happened several times, both to my husband and to me—think that I’m saying his name is Holland. Holland! That’s not even a name! Even the country doesn’t call itself Holland any more. I am floored that, given the choice, people would really believe I’d name my son Holland instead of Colin. Stupid people!
I hear Colin is a pretty common name in England and Scotland, and it’s not as if there aren’t famous American Colins lurking about. There’s Colin Farrell, the actor, and there’s Colin Firth—who plays Mr. Darcy! Every woman should know the name Colin because of him. There’s also Colin Kaepernick from the 49ers. I’m really pulling for him to become the first string quarterback, as I think that will help Colins everywhere by bringing fame and acclaim to the name. Not that my Colin will ever play football or be a quarterback. His brains are far too important for people to be trying to bash them in. He can take up golf, minus the wanton philandering.
There’s also former Secretary of State Colin Powell, but I must admit I’m not currently speaking to him, as I’m angry with him for changing the pronunciation of his name to that of an internal organ (from Cahlin to Coelin). Powell claims he changed the pronunciation to honor the heroic World War II hero Colin P. Kelly, Jr., but I think it was just inconsiderate. Powell could have used his high governmental position to perform a service to correctly pronounced Colins everywhere, serving as a kind of ambassador for them. A lot of people are hard on Powell for the whole WMD fiasco, but, heck, I can forgive a few missing grand scale weapons that could have obliterated the entire free world. Loads of people could make that mistake. His real crime is that Colins the world over are being called Holland, while Powell smugly insists on being referred to as the large intestine and does nothing to save them.
Actually, even though I have a good case against him that the Supreme Court would probably be willing to hear, I don’t actually blame Colin Powell. That would be ridiculous. After all, I chose my son’s name.
No, I blame society. They’re clearly not watching enough movies or football, or I wouldn’t be having this problem.
