Last week I talked about the difficulty of finding sibling names that strike the same note as Tatum. After reading your responses, I must tip my cap to reader Camilla for her inspired suggestion of Greer. Like Tatum, it's a compact surname that doesn't sound like anything else. (No name ending in -eer has ever made the U.S. top 1000 names list.) Also like Tatum it has a vaguely masculine sound but feminine associations, thanks to a well-known actress -- in this case, Academy Award winner Greer Garson. Bullseye, a perfect match.
Second place in popular opinion went to my suggestion Harper, with Flannery a distant third. I had also discussed Mackenzie, which has some of the same pop-culture-driven history as Tatum, and we could easily throw in Carson for author Carson McCullers. Each of the names mentioned is a traditional surname launched into feminine forename use by a single celebrity. But thinking about it further, I realized that Tatum still, in one way, stands alone. Which of these notable individuals doesn't match?
Eileen Evelyn Greer Garson
Laura Mackenzie Phillips
Lula Carson McCullers
Mary Flannery O'Connor
Nelle Harper Lee
Tatum Beatrice O'Neal
Up until Tatum O'Neal -- the baby of the group -- all of those famous names were middle names. The style-shaping androgynous sounds mostly started out as nods to family tradition, buried behind traditional feminine first names. While a few of the women used their more unconventional middle names as kids, most stuck with their first names into early adulthood. And at least one only used the distinctive middle name on a professional basis, sticking to her birth name in daily life.
Compare this to the current generation of surnamed girls. Not only do we lead with one androgynous surname but we often follow up with another: Madison Taylor, Jordan Mackenzie. Stylistically they're perfect first/middle matches, but they don't leave you any options. Perfect pairings are meant to stay paired. An aspiring author named Madison Taylor can't unfold a new identity by switching to her middle name, any more than a Mary Catherine or Sharon Diane could.
There's a lot to be said for a first/middle pairing that makes a child's full name a harmonious whole. But the tales of names like Mary Flannery and Tatum Beatrice make an intriguing case for mismatches too. A young Madison Miranda's name could grow up many different ways, just as she could.
To me, the core of the Baby Name Wizard book is the "sibling name" suggestions. I wanted parents to be able to look up one name they liked and come away with a list of promising ideas. In most cases, choosing the sibling names was fun. Armed with my trusty NameMatchmaker program and a stack of reference materials I could match the style of most names pretty comfortably. But good luck with Tatum.
Try it yourself -- what's a natural sister match for a girl named Tatum? Worse yet, a brother? Here's what I ultimately came up with:
Sisters: Quinn, Ainsley, Rylie, Reese, Teagan
Brothers: Rowan, Gideon, Brody, Hudson, Zane
It'll do, I suppose. But Ainsley? Gideon? Hmm...might have to rethink for the second edition. Part of the challenge is the name's unusual sound (only Autumn comes close). But the real trouble with matching Tatum is its history. This is a name that broke the rules.
Tatum is an old English surname. Like many surnames it derives from a place/habitation name, in this case a contraction meaning "Tate homestead." A number of internet name dictionaries trace Tatum back further to a meaning of "cheerful" via the Norse name Tait, but other sources dispute that connection. Regardless, what we hear is simply an English place-based surname.
Many such surnames have evolved into popular first names. Ashley, for instance, comes from the surname meaning "ash-tree clearing." Whitney derives from "white island." Lindsay too comes from a dwelling name, usually cited as either "linden island" or "Lincoln's marsh."
You may notice another similarity among those three names, Ashley, Whitney and Lindsay. They all became male given names first, then eventually shifted to the girls' side. That's a well-traveled path, followed more recently by surnames like Taylor and Bailey. But Tatum, with its boyish sound, was never a boy's name. Its life as a first name dates to November 5, 1963, the birth date of actress Tatum O'Neal. Like fellow actress Mackenzie Phillips, O'Neal was the child of performers and was named for the surname of a male musician (in this case, jazz great Art Tatum). Also like Phillips, O'Neal found herself suddenly bearing a hot name in adulthood as a generation of parents embraced the surname sound for girls.
By skipping the genteel-boy's-name phase, Tatum acquired a more jaunty sound than Whitney and Lindsay. It's completely contemporary, despite its old roots. So what's a good sister match? Mackenzie certainly has the cultural bona fides but its sound and style are quite different. Given the chance to match it over again, I'd be tempted to toss aside the NameMatchmaker and choose Harper or perhaps Flannery, both surnames associated with prominent women (writers Harper Lee and Flannery O'Connor). As for brothers, darned if I know. Perhaps some surnames that are unfamilar as first names in the U.S, just like Tatum before O'Neal. Turner and Flynn, anyone?
I recently read a newspaper article that summarized many of the complaints I hear about contemporary baby names. Too many parents are naming their kids after movie stars, or making up "weird" names without meanings. The new names are unfamiliar and impossible to pronounce. The traditional, beloved names of past generations seem to have disappeared overnight.
One woman quoted in the article, marveling over the names of her own nieces and nephews, said she was glad she didn't become a teacher: "I am struggling to pronounce the mere six 'weird' names, imagine my plight as a teacher calling out at least thirty odd such names everyday." A name expert claimed that parents today are determined to be unique and "believe that a name should have an identity as well as an ability to be exceptional among others."
And the author of the article wistfully concluded that the common, classic names of her youth were long gone. "Kusumas and Chandimas will never stand a chance with the present generation of Shanudhas and Sathsaranjanis."
Oh, did I mention that the article was from Sri Lanka?
This lifestyle piece in the Sri Lankan Sunday Observer was an uncanny mirror of attitudes in the United States. The details may differ -- celebrity names come from Bollywood rather than Hollywood, grandparents despair that names are selected without consulting astrological charts -- but the core concerns are the same. Some of the causes, too, sound the same to me. Globalization comes up again and again, from the cultural clout of the Indian entertainment industry to the possibility of migration to the West. Names, as usual, reflect the changing world around them.
A coda at the end of the article, though, puts the whole thing in perspective. Three terse paragraphs summarize 2000 years of Sri Lankan name history: from the short ethnic names of the early kingdom, to the later blending with Sanskrit, to 450 years of shifting European-based styles as first the Portuguese then the Dutch then the English ruled the country, to the past century's gradual ascension of Sinhalese names in a series of changing styles.
So those old, familiar names that are disappearing were often one-generation wonders themselves. In an ever-changing world, "traditional" is a relative term.