There was certainly more than one reason my first marriage failed.
Certainly one bone of contention was possible names for future male children. To be fair, those discussions never got beyond the realm of joking and whimsy. I had only one absolute no. There was never going to be a child, male or female, in this world named Michael Paul Rappaport Jr.
Not a chance.
1950
I suggested Aloysius or Sylvester, and in the pre-Stallone days, both names must have sounded equally goofy.
Of course there are some names that no one who loves their child would never consider.
American parents wouldn’t consider the name Benedict. Mister Arnold ruined that one for all time.
Ditto a more ethnic one. At least since the 1930s, Americans don’t name their sons Adolf (or Adolph).
Then there are the religious names. Mister Iscariot ruined the name Judas for all time, and Lucifer might be the most poisonous name possible. In general, parents don’t give their children God names like Allah or Jehovah, although a member of my son-in-law’s family names her son Odin.
You might argue that Odin is only a god’s name in Norse mythology, but of course, a very popular name among Latino families is Jesus.
My daughter gave her son a pleasant name that was rare enough that it isn’t even listed in the big book of baby names. His name is Lexington and they call him Lex. Cute name.
Any further children in my family will be in the next generation, so who knows what the names will be then?
But there is one name, a man who was good hearted to the core and never did anything bad to anyone.
A good name.
Geppetto.