Spotlight - 10.2019

(coco) #1
I ASK MYSELF 10/2019 Spotlight

Welcome,


Archie!


Amerika reagiert auf den Namen des
neuen königlichen Babys mit Begeisterung
und einer Frage zu Spitznamen.

ADVANCED US

I ASK MYSELF


AMY ARGETSINGER
is an editor at
The Washington
Post, a leading
daily newspaper
in the US.

couldn’t help but laugh 14 years ago when my cous-
in Jeanie announced the name of her new baby boy.
“He’s George Theodore,” she said, “but we’re going
to call him ‘Teddy.’”
Really? Why make such an official decision about
a nickname? Nicknames, after all, are just terms of en-
dearment. Aren’t they supposed to arise organically,
as we coo our darling baby’s name again and again
until the most pleasing truncation evolves? That’s
how my cousin became “Jeanie,” instead of Jean,
and how I became “E-E,” at least for my parents. It’s
how my sister Elizabeth became “Liz,” but my cousin
Elizabeth became “Lizzie.”
But Jeanie was ahead of her time. Nicknames are
now so crucial that we’re increasingly giving them
to children in place of traditional first names. Across
America, there was much confusion when Prince
Harry and Meghan Markle announced the arrival of
Archie Harrison Mountbatten-Windsor. “What’s ‘Ar-
chie’ short for?” we all wondered. Well, traditionally,
Archie is a derivation of Archibald, a fancy old name
that just reeks of the aristocracy.
And yet this boy was not an Archibald. He was just
an Archie. It sounded jaunty and sporty — like some-
one with the pedigree to merit a name like Archibald
but who just couldn’t be bothered with the formality
of it.
Archie may have sounded strange to American
ears, but apparently, it was already quite popular as a
proper name in England and Wales. And nicknames
have been creeping up on us in the US as well. Jack,
a very stylish baby name in certain circles here, was
once merely a nickname for John; Sally was once a
sweet way to refer to little girls christened Sarah.
Archie, in fact, was one of the top 100 boys’ names in

august [O:(gVst]
, erhaben, erlaucht
coo [ku:]
, gurren, murmeln
creep up on sb. [kri:p (Vp A:n]
, sich an jmdn. anschleichen
crucial [(kru:S&l]
, entscheidend, wichtig
derivation [)derI(veIS&n]
, Ableitung
distinguished [dI(stINgwISt]
, angesehen
evolve [i(vA:lv]
, sich entwickeln, entstehen
jaunty [ˈdʒɑːnti]
, flott, munter, unbeschwert

merit [(merEt]
, verdienen
moniker [(mA:nIk&r]
, Name; Spitzname
nickname [(nIkneIm]
, Spitzname
pedigree [(pedIgri:]
, Stammbaum
reek of sth. [(ri:k Ev]
, nach etw. stinken
stuffy [(stVfi] ifml.
, spießig
term of endearment
[)t§:m Ev In(dI&rmEnt]
, Kosename
truncation [trVN(keIS&n]
, Verkürzung

the 1800s — and while it quickly dropped off in pop-
ularity, it was always more popular than Archibald.
Of course, this trend towards informal first names
lives alongside its opposite — first names that sound
like last names, such as Berkeley or Hunter or Walk-
er or Calvert. When I went to college, many of the
Southerners from old, wealthy families had names
like these. They were names that could have belonged
to a man or a woman; when said aloud with their last
names, it sounded like a distinguished law firm.
Years later, I learned that, in fact, most of these stu-
dents had very traditional first names: Mary or John
or whatever. But they had been given an old family
last name as their middle name, and it was that stuffy
and august moniker that ended up being the one
they used for daily life. Why? Because those names
sounded cool, I guess. Like Archie.

Foto: EHStock, pederk/iStock.com, privat


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