What's in a name?

My grandmother's maiden name was Wright. And she teased that she became all wrong when she married my grandfather.

And my grandfather's name, now, Casey - the original spelling butchered and lost when his great grandparents moved from Canada to the United States.

But my father, my father's name is the one that causes the most reaction from anyone, whenever they hear it. My father's given name, on his birth certificate, is George Washington. The jokes are endless, from telling people my name is "Our Country" because George Washington is the Father of Our Country - to teasing that he's aged well. It's no wonder that my father was destined to be an American History buff and patriotic Minuteman.

So much goes into the naming of things. I wonder about Adam's Biblical task of naming every creature - and the pressure that must have been - to create an identity for everything under the sun. Because names are so much of our identities. So much of who we become is wrapped up in our name. Our last names, carrying generations with us. Names that turn to nicknames based on inside jokes or mispronunciation. Names changed with marriage or relocation.

And I wonder, of course, what my life would have been like if I'd been named Sabra after my great grandmother, or Jessica because it was so popular the year I was born. I don't feel like a Sabra, or a Jessica, or even a Tiffany most days. I just feel like me - but how much of me would I be if I were named something else from the beginning? How much of who we are is tied up in how we are named and who names us?