HapInez in a name | 3 min read

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Happy Sunday. The word "Sunday" comes from Old English sunnandæg, meaning "sun's day." While Germanic languages kept the sun-worship origin, Romance languages like Spanish (domingo) and French (dimanche) shifted to names reflecting religious significance, derived from Latin diēs Dominicus, meaning "the Lord's Day." ]

The story

Can our names influence the happiness we experience in our lives?

A name is one of the first gifts we receive, but it is also one of the first things we can struggle with.

Some people spend their whole lives trying to grow into their name. Others spend years trying to escape it. Some shorten it, change it, translate it, or reinvent themselves completely. Sometimes a name can feel like home. Other times, it can feel like a costume.

I always knew my mom as Agnes, but when our family moved to Malta in 1993, I heard our relatives call her Inez instead. It turned out that Inez was her real name. Like many immigrants, she had changed it to sound more Canadian — whatever that means. Once we moved back, she became Inez again.

What struck me was not just that she had two names, but that each version of her seemed connected to a different part of her identity.

One of my best friends has also lived through several names. Born Mu Seong in North Korea, he became Hung Gil after escaping and becoming a refugee in South Korea, where I met him. When he later came to Canada, he chose an English name for himself: Ryan (after my middle name).

Imagine how much life someone has lived when even their name changes with each chapter.

Two of my friends technically go by their middle names. Steve's first name is Gerard. Mike's first name is John. Most of us probably know people whose “real” name almost feels surprising because the version they chose for themselves fits them better.

In Chapter 6 of Freakonomics, authors Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner tell the story of two brothers, Winner and Loser Lane, to show that names do not determine success.

Winner became a criminal, with dozens of arrests and prison time. Loser became a respected NYPD detective who often went by “Lou.”

Their story suggests that names do not decide our future.

But maybe they still influence how we feel while living it.

My name is Jonathan, though most people — including me — call me Jon. My mom hated it when people shortened it. She would say, “If I wanted to name him Jon, I would have named him Jon. His name is Jonathan.”

As a kid, I hated it when she corrected people. It made me uncomfortable, and for a while, I disliked my own name.

Now I actually like my name, but I still mostly go by Jon. That experience stuck with me enough that, when Jen and I were naming our kids, we scrutinized each name and ran it through the “nickname test.” We want to confirm we're OK with all variations we can come up with that friends, teachers, teammates, and coworkers will eventually use.

We often connect happiness to comfort. And comfort is connected to identity.

A name may seem small, but we carry it everywhere. It is attached to every introduction, every classroom attendance sheet, every job interview, every coffee order, every wedding invitation, every tombstone.

Over time, a name becomes emotional. It becomes personal. It becomes us.

Maybe that is why my mom went back to Inez when she returned to Malta. It was not just about the name itself. It was about reconnecting with the version of herself that brought her the most happiness.

The Pebble

In case you are expecting or know someone who is:

Starbucks names gone wrong

The challenge

Reflect on your own name. Do you like it? Love it? Know what it means? If you could change it, what would you call yourself? Or are you happy with the one you have?