What's In A Name?
So why this topic, and why now?
A few reasons. One, it allows me to talk a little about my book's title and why I chose it. Two, about the unique names I chose for my boys and the beautiful meanings behind them. And three, other names, such as cars, to even a bike I had. Yes, fair dinkum – a bike!
Sounds kind of fun right? I think so. Read on below to discover more.
Cool, meaningful, and distinct names are everywhere these days. Arlo; Elliston; Onawa; Gaia; Fenix; Harley; Jet; Kayden; Koa; Zola; Beckett; Sawyer; Cairo; Kingston, Samadhi; Varvara, Wolf. These are but a small sample of the myriad of names of young kids I either know or the array of names I have overheard in the playgrounds recently.
Gone are the days of more traditional names like: John, Jack, Paul, Henry, Alice, Claire, Emma, Karen etc. Hell, I was one Mark of many at both primary and high school. I was even in a grade 5/6 composite that contained no less than five Marks! Each of us a rascal in our own right that whenever the teacher yelled “Mark," to tell one off, we'd all turn around and say what? True story.
Then there's those names that effortlessly roll off the tongue and stay with you long after you hear them. Names that have a certain air of sophistication, eloquence and beauty about them. For example, I once met at my son’s daycare in Toronto, a Domonie Pierre. A beautiful name in itself. The fact that it also belonged to one of the most striking women I have ever seen (think regal Guyana goddess with long brown and silver streaked locks), and it’s utter perfection. I am sure she was of South American royalty in a former life.
Or Ana Maria Falchetti (Fell-ket-tee), Kailan's Colombian abuela (grandmother), which sounds Italian yet is Uruguayan. To even that of my own wife, Jennifer Juvenelle.
When she said she wanted to change her exquisite French surname to that of Rasmussen, I almost cried inside, not at being overjoyed but at disbelief. Marrying me was one thing, but changing that enchanting name to join a motley crew of miscreant former convicts, left me flabbergasted.
But Enough Joking, Let's Start With The Most Important Name – That Of My Bike!
Kidding. Kidding. I meant my boys. Sheesh. But her name was Zoë, and she was a silver Trek with bright blue tyres. I picked her up in L.A, pimped her out with blue chrome handgrips, funky spoke lights that flashed and whirred in a blur of white & red whenever I cycled her fast at night. She looked fricken awesome! We rode all over that bustling metropolis. She then ventured north with me to Toronto, got semi-acquainted with that icy town (like me, never warmed to it), before then winding up in sunny Australia, where we eventually parted ways some seven memorable years later as I jetted off to Mexico. She has been missed in the four years since. Loved that gal. Best ride I had.
Oh right, my kids names. Sorry, took a ride down memory lane there. So yeah, Kailan and Iluka. My boys mean everything to me.
Being a writer, and loving words and names and definitions, I spent an extraordinary amount of time looking at thousands of names, origins, history, and meanings, to then shortlist names that:
Were not common,
Were easy to pronounce,
Had a beautiful, deep meaning,
Were both elegant to speak and write,
Were not made up or butchered English,
I genuinely adored & loved (and would for years).
KAILAN'S NAME STORY
When Kailan (pronounced Ky-lan), came onto the scene back in 2017, for a solid week after he was born he went without a name but his name story is a bewdy (Aussie for beauty). My former partner and I had an incredible, virtually unheard, literary like name picked out had he been a girl. But for a boy’s name, we had shortlisted five and couldn’t decide on one.
That all changed early one morning when I was feeding him from the comfort of a rocking chair, while she slept in another room.
As he rested in my arms I decided to run the first four names past him. Zip, nada, nothing. No reaction whatsoever. However, when I softly spoke the last name, Kailan, he turned his head in my direction and looked me right in the eyes. And just like that, he was forever Kailan.
It’s a name which is of Celtic origins and means ‘Keeper of the keys’ and ‘Pure’. A most fitting name given that he was not only born on St. Patrick’s Day, but was also born at home in our apartment on a day where it snowed all day, dropping several feet of pure white snow outside.
He’s always been known as the AustraLombian leprechaun (me Australian, his mum Colombian). To this day he sports a tiny indent on his left ear that has a slight point to it and hints at his leprechaun legacy.
ILUKA'S NAME STORY
For Iluka (pronounced e-luka), his name story is a whole other affair. While he had yet to be born, his name seemed to divinely come to us a few months before he arrived. Exactly like Kailan, my new partner & I didn’t know or want to know, what sex the baby was. To me, there is no greater surprise in the world than not knowing until that mystical, magical moment. However, for the longest time we both believed and felt it was a girl.
I had again dived deep down the rabbit hole of baby names, and again, my wife and I had the most perfect girl’s name chosen. But during one of my many sojourns down that baby name rabbit hole (it runs really bloody deep), I struck upon Iluka – an Australian Aboriginal name that literally means, ‘By the sea’.
Given we were living right by the sea in the remote fishing village of Yelapa, Mexico, and which had both Australian meaning (for me) and indigenous roots (my wife is part Native American), it seemed like he had chosen it for us from the spirit world. While we wouldn’t find out for a couple more months the actual sex of the baby, it sure seemed like a sign.
And again, like his older half-brother, Iluka was born right inside our home on a perfectly still evening of October 11 – a day after what would have been his maternal grandmama’s 73rd birthday. She sadly passed away three weeks before his arrival.
Like his brother and the name meaning, Iluka’s is well suited because this kid LOVES water. Be it sea, river, waterfall, pools, baths, sinks, puddles.
THE JOURNEY'S TITLE STORY
When I first wrote my novel, The Journey, the title came to me pretty quickly. A man goes on a literal physical journey from one place to another. Simple. Nothing special about it. However, it’s so much more than that.
Raiden (the main character), also goes on a deep, emotional, internal journey. No other name or title ever entered my head. While I realised the generic name of it and did ponder if I might find something better, or more unique to make it stand out, nothing else ever came to me.
I contemplated the subtitle: No matter how far you run, your demons always follow, but that felt better as a tagline than an actual book title.
What I would find out much later (and to my surprise), was that by titling my book The Journey, many readers would themselves, go on their own incredible inner journey. In several reviews, many remarked that the title felt so apt for them. Vindicated? Maybe. Either way, ‘The Journey’ ideally complemented the narrative.
THE JOURNEY
No matter how far you run, your demons always follow. An internal journey within an outer journey. Now a dual award-winning novel! Discover it for yourself and click button below.
$4.99 (ebook)
$14.99 (paperback)
DAUGHTER OF BELIAL TITLE STORY
On the other side of it, my incredibly talented and phenomenal wife, also wrote a novel around the same time I did. I knew she was writing one but I had yet to see it. Back when we were purely platonic friends, one day she let me read part one of it for my thoughts. And what a first draft. I was blown away.
I still shake my head in disbelief that the very first draft of her very first book, was better than most established or award winning authors. No word of a lie. But her title, well, in true direct Australian fashion – it sucked!
A voiceless crime.
Doesn’t tell you much. No genre, no hint or clue as to what the story is about. I just happened to mention in passing the title would come from within the book. And sure enough, several thousand words later – Daughter of Belial leapt out at her.
If you know your words and origins, or been fortunate enough to have read her deliciously dark, exquisitely written sublime novel, then you will know how utterly magnificent that title is. And with a cover that is equally impressive and matches the tone of the story to perfection, trust me this is a must read.
DAUGHTER of BELIAL
Uncovering her truth has never been more dangerous. A powerful, explosive debut novel that one review site wrote: "Daughter of Belial is beautifully written, completely captivating and... magnificent, all of it. A Machiavellian masterpiece." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
$4.99 (ebook)
$18.99 (paperback)
THE CARS
I’m sure most of us have had cars that we’ve given names to. Usually female names dominate over male ones (same for boats). One of my earliest cars, was a classic HJ Holden Kingswood (iconic vehicle in Australia), with its bench seats up front, three-on-the-tree column gear shifter, which allowed you to fit six adults comfortably with plenty of space between each person. Who remembers those glory days?
Well, I named that car Alex (short for Alexander). I’m not sure why but this bronzed beauty became Alex and being an older car that also ran on dual fuel (gas propane & petrol), she made endless hours of driving fun and economical. While not built for speed, Alex was a cruiser and I loved cruising in her.
FUN FACT
I once drove from the edge of the Mornington Peninsula all the way up into Melbourne and East Brunswick during peak hour, a distance of some 50 kilometres – totally nude!
It’s similar to driving on the 405 during rush hour from Studio City in Los Angeles, out to Malibu, or from Tooting Broadway (SW17) in south west London all the way up to Walthamstow (E17) while going through the heart of London.
Why naked? Because it was a typical stinking hot summer’s day in Australia and Alex, as iconic as she was, was made in the seventies when air-con (a/c) was simply rolling down the windows. I had to sit on a towel because, well… scorching hot sun, vinyl seats, and exposed flesh don’t go so well together. Alex still remains the only car I’ve ever done that in, and more than once I might add. Night or day, it didn't matter, I'd drive her completely starkers. The things we do in our youth for kicks. ...Actually, come to think of it, I was in my early thirties. Ha!
Other cars to get a name were my little Suzuki Swift, I aptly named Susie (I know, not very inventive). Only had her a few months before I tripped off for L.A. but on one particularly huge, rain soaked downpour of a Sydney night, where literal waterfalls sprang up over the sides of raised structures and cascaded down embankments, she almost aquaplaned over the entire Sydney Harbour Bridge. A pretty neat trick for a tiny car that was no bigger than a go-cart.
In L.A, I purchased what the American's call a "truck" with a ‘94 Ford Explorer. That white beauty I nicknamed Lola, because part of her number plate had an 'L' and 'A' in it. Stick shift (as the yanks say), super comfy seats, and the ability to haul almost anything in her rear when the back seats were folded down. I loved Lola, though during the constant stop-start rush hour traffic up and over the steep Laurel Canyon hillside without a handbrake, took a real deft touch of skill and finesse to ensure she didn't roll back into the car behind her. Laurel in Lola, with music blaring, still remains one of my most favourite driving experiences. I also recall taking more women out on dates in this "truck" than any other vehicle I've ever owned. While not the best economically, Lola remains a fave.
More recently my wife & I tasted our first ever Volvo, a sleek, sporty, silver S40 in Mexico (seen above). Duly dubbed, Sienna, she was a bloody pocket rocket. On the often virtually empty, perfectly smooth paid toll freeways, I got her up to 180kmh (112mph) where she was absolutely purring. She was almost willing me to go faster. As easily as she would have handled more speed (and as much as I wanted to), I had a wife and young baby to consider, both fast asleep in the car at the time. But on account of that experience, and the incredibly luxurious feel of her leather seats, superb handling, and European styling, I’m now a Volvo man!
Because today, while traversing the U.S, we now have a gorgeous Caspian blue Volvo sexy60. Err… XC60. Sorry, easy mistake to make. While not quite as quick as Sienna, though she’s still got some real get up and go about her with both a supercharger and turbocharger, she’s more a comfy mid-sized family SUV than racer. It’s also the first time I’ve ever considered safety when buying a car.
Is there a car safer than Volvo? Not. Bloody. Likely. Want proof? Check out this insane 48 second video when a driver decides to test that theory and veers into the path of an oncoming truck.
While I’m not likely to test Volvo’s number #1 status as safest car in the entire universe with a stunt like this, knowing she can handle it is reassuring.
But more importantly, the name of our newest family member? Greta of course, after iconic Swedish silver screen star, Greta Garbo. Best of all, Greta is an anagram of great, so she’s now rightly been crowned Greta the Great, conquerer of North American roads.
And that brings me to my current adventures – our Gypsy Love Tour. However, instead of the olden days with just two horses, we have 302hp under the bonnet (or hood for the Americans). And rather than a covered, rickety old wooden wagon, we have a super comfy Volvo XC60. While space is at a premium it’s a beautiful, luxurious way to traverse such a diverse country.
We’ve basically packed up all our belongings – a few suitcases, two large duffel-bags, a kid’s play kitchen (don’t ask), stroller, and some other odds & ends, and piled them into Greta. Each and every time I pull things out to then have to put them all back later on, is like doing a life sized Tetris puzzle.
We’ve gone from the gorgeous old gold country charm of Northern California in Nevada City and Grass Valley, up through the high desert of Oregon, into the town centre waterfalls of Spokane, and even further north into Port Angeles, Washington, where we now have the majestic and mighty Mt. Olympic as a backyard neighbour. A snow-capped “hill” rising over 8000ft.
I’ll have more to say and share in the next newsletter, but needless to say, Iluka is having a great ol’ time of it where he gets to meet all these wonderful kitties & doggies, or ride miniature donkeys and ponies, as we house and pet sit, doing our best to decide where we want to pull up stumps* for a bit.
*Aussie/cricket term for rest.