My grandmother’s name was Dora Belle. She was Mama Belle to us, which is a great name. It just has a nice ring to it, sort of like a real bell. Mama Belle.
I never understood, though, how her parents could have in good conscience named her Dora Belle, which sounds far too much like “doorbell” if you run it together, something that’s bound to happen. No one in rural Mississippi would draw out the pronunciation of Dora. It would just be slurred to Doorbell. “Hey, Doorbell,” would most certainly be followed by a snicker on the playground at recess.
I thought that must have been hurtful to her. That is until I realized that when she was born in 1900, there was no such thing as a doorbell, so it was sort of a moot point. Her parents couldn’t have known, and there was no way kids in her grade school class could have picked up on the doorbell thing to torment her with. By the time she was an adult, with doorbells in ready supply, she had become simply “Belle,” with friends too old and mannered to tease her anyway.
Double names are great. I’m not sure I have a favorite, but I heard just today of a celebrity naming her daughter Ivy Jane. That’s a new one to me, but I really do like it. In fact, I like just about any double name, unless it rhymes or is too hokey. An obituary I recently happened upon was for one of a set of twins named Sally 1. Her surviving twin is Sally 2. All I can figure is that the parents were a bit short of creativity or totally unprepared to meet a naming deadline or just done with naming kids when they were presented with not one, but two.
Before casting stones, however, I have to admit to what most might consider a two-name failure in my family. A second cousin carried the name Rhea Joyce, a name given by two very joyful parents. And of course, the name was never shortened. She was always Rhea Joyce.
My next door neighbor, the one closest in age to me and therefore my very best friend on the street, was Martha Jane. One thing I’ve noticed about double names in the South is that almost all of them are three syllable. I have a theory that it just happens naturally that way, as three syllables roll off the tongue best, and we’re all about things rolling off the tongue. Martha Jane’s youngest sister was Carol Ann. That family was partial to double names until it came to the lone brother, who was simply called Bubba, as were most only brothers in a mostly female family.
Guys are not immune to the double name fetish, though. My dad’s brother was named Edsel Wayne. I’m not sure where that came from, as to my knowledge no one before him carried either of those names, but again it’s three syllables that just roll right out there. At the time of his youth, the Edsel car company was doing pretty well, too, so there’s that. Who could have known the company would fail so miserably? That’s the chance you take when naming for a winning coach or a car company. He had two daughters, one of whom is named Dixie Lee. Such a classic name, but sadly she only goes by Dixie. What a waste.
Three syllables are not required. There are a lot of really nice names that carry more or less than that. Anything with Grace or Emma in it, or anything that ends in Lee is going to be over the top. And the name Mary is apparently making a comeback. Grace Ann, admittedly not three-syllable, is beautiful and absolutely acceptable. And the three-syllable Mary Lee has all points covered. Sort of like Dixie Lee.
Although I am pretty much alone in this assumption, I firmly believe that no matter what a child is called, he or she should carry a Christian name. That has nothing to do with religious conviction, it’s just what my 11th grade literature teacher at Coffee High School admonished as a rule of life. I can still hear her clear, somewhat perturbed, tone echoing throughout that cavernous classroom, “You can call her Sally, but you name her Sarah! You give her a Christian name!” I cringed when a friend subsequently named her daughter Maggie Beth. Every ounce of my being wanted to scream, “What is wrong with you? You can call her Maggie Beth, but you name her Margaret Elizabeth!”
I’m personally partial to alliteration if two names are assigned. Mary Margaret is just classic, as is Billy Bob. I really wanted to name our second and last child Allison Ann, but was overruled by a husband who said he would only agree if the next daughter was given a name of his choice. We named her Chellie Allison. She thinks the monogram is a lot more classy than AAH would have been, and that’s absolutely what matters. And of course she’s named for her great grandmother which is incredibly important.
A lot of double names are just squashed up into one, like Annelle from the Steel Magnolias movie. Come to think of it, M’Lynn from the same movie was probably a weirdly squashed up double name, as well. I’m thinking most likely Mary Lynn. And If you can squash up a name so that it has both family connection and ease of rolling out there, well that’s just brilliant, like another neighborhood playmate who was named for both her dad (Donald) and mom (Juanice). Her name was Donice. Lovely. And I mean that.
To creatively include the dad’s name in the daughter’s, whether it’s a double name or not, is a challenge that many of us are quick to accept. My husband’s cousin, Barry, accomplished that feat beautifully in his daughter’s double moniker of Barri Elizabeth. Of course, that mouthful was promptly shortened to BB, which still carried the double-name intent but was a whole lot easier for her to letter in kindergarten. Win/win for all involved.
Part of the point is the way it sounds. Whether spelled as a squashed up name or an actual two-word setup, the end result is the same. We had in the family a whole set of sisters with the most melodic names. There was Pauline, Evelyn, and Catherine. But those on-the-surface ho hum names are actually double names in disguise, pronounced in rhyme: Paul Een, Eva Leen, and Cath Reen. What you see is not always what you get. So I take back part of what I said about not liking rhyming names. There can always be exceptions.
My first introduction to lovely double names were Billie Jo, Bobbie Jo, and Bettie Jo from the Petticoat Junction TV series, named of course for their Uncle Joe who was also in residence at the Shady Rest Inn in Hooterville. Bettie Jo’s daughter, Cathy Jo, carried on the two-name tradition. Ellie Mae also originated in Hooterville but moved with her hillbilly family to Beverly Hills. As far as early TV was concerned, double names were required for any woman living south of Ohio.
No matter how a name is chosen; no matter whether two-part or not, it could have a self-fulfilling result, so caution is advised. My husband’s double name is James Paul, ascribed by a mother who yearned for a Deepwater Baptist in the family; hence the two biblical names. I’m not sure that one turned out exactly as intended but he was once a regular in church training. And you can bet that anyone named John Austin is most likely on the way to Ole Miss in his dad’s BMW with the leather seats, followed closely by Madison Riley and Ava Ross in the brand new Land Rover. At the same time, Jim Bob is probably making a good living as a mechanic at Vic’s Automotive. Just proceed with caution.
My daughter with the nice monogram intends to name any future daughter Presley Belle, after her great grandmother and great grandfather. That would be nice. Both family connection and double name in one swoop. If that happens, though, she really shouldn’t marry anyone with a last name beginning with S, as the monogram would be PBS and that’s a TV station. It’s all about that monogram.
