Being Roger

A Google Image search for Roger brings up pictures of tennis champ Roger Federer, film critic Roger Ebert, The Who frontman Roger Daltry, former James Bond Roger Moore, and Roger the Alien, among others. It's not a normal name to have, either as a child or an adult, and with the exception of Mr. Ebert, it's not a name many people take seriously.

The name Roger has its origins in the Germanic language, its two syllables Hrod and Ger literally translating to "Fame" and "Spear." The name signified a mighty, notorious hunter. Scandinavian variations (also Germanic) of the name translate as "Famous Warrior" or "Famous Defender." The name was brought to England by the Normans and eventually replaced a similar name with the same meaning, Hrothgar--the king of Heorot in Beowulf. The epic tells of the hero Beowulf who travels to rid Hrothgar of the pests Grendel and his mother. Grendel's mother, not Hrothgar's. The people are referred to as the Spear Danes, and for the Spear Danes to be ruled by a man whose name literally means "Famed Spear" makes perfect sense. It seems more fitting, really, as a title to bestow on someone who has earned it, or perhaps these mothers had high hopes for their children and were trying to predetermine their fates.

Guess I should have thrown the javelin in high school.


Many names have that kind of great history. Just look at the Old Testament, when they gave children names literally describing the events surrounding their conceptions or births. Jacob means "He grasps at the heel," which is what Jacob did during birth with his twin brother; Esau means "Hairy," which he was; Isaac means "He laughs," a commentary on God's sense of humor in giving a couple so old as Abraham and Sarah a son.


But great history of the name aside, when you're seven years old and the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit? comes to theaters, that's something that sticks with you for a long time.

Meet Kindle

This morning I met a boy named Kindle.

Not Kendall, but Kindle.

He was a very happy 2-year-old kid in the church nursery who was building and destroying towers of blocks just like any other boy, but he was named for a piece of technology.

I don't own a Kindle (yet), or any other e-reader. I've looked at them and the Nook and the Kobo, but haven't bought. Even when Borders had them on clearance during their liquidation, I didn't buy one. I don't have anything intrinsically against e-readers; I think they're a wonderful tool for economic transportation and storage of a large library. They've even become something of a status symbol, like a big expensive laptop was a number of years ago (I am currently typing on a laptop that cost around $300). I've seen people pull out their Nooks at church since they had easy access to four different translations and could pick deciding on their mood. I've seen somebody download his entire PhD book list to a Kindle rather than buy the recommended set of $1000 leather bound books.

In reality, I don't spend a lot of money on books. Sacrelige coming from someone with a Master's in English, but I also live in the real world. My monthly book budget is small (in part due to the Master's in English), and that usually gets spent on kids' books. I use the library quite frequently and enjoy being on a first-name basis with many librarians and regular patrons.

But back to the little boy.

My wife told me his name, "As in Amazon Kindle." That has got to be some great free marketing for Amazon. Now, for as long as that little boy lives, any time he introduces himself and somebody spells his name the other way, he gets to say, "No, like the Amazon Kindle." There will likely never be a Kobo or Nook in the church nursery; the brands (and probably the names as well) just don't have the staying power to be integrated that far into culture.

Forget e-readers for the moment. Very few brands at all ever make it into the culture of kids' names. A friend I grew up with named her kid Camaro, and plenty of others have gone with names like Stetson, Lexus, Porsche, and other expensive-sounding brands. These have all been cultural symbols. It doesn't mean that all cultural symbols will become names (I dare you to find an iPod in Kindergarten anytime soon), but this pretty much guarantees their stickiness outside of their general field. Here is a one of many other articles on this phenomenon.

And the new one to the club, Kindle.

Perhaps some day companies will no longer buy the naming rights to stadiums, but our children. Heck, for the right bid, I may just have another kid myself. Just as long as the company didn't want residuals every time he wrote his name.