Häagen Das Wouldn't Be a Bad Name

I remembered today that I wanted my parents to name my brother Nicholas. I was only three when he was born and nothing but unhappy about the whole idea of the guy coming into my world, but I was convinced that Nicholas was the perfect name for him. I remember climbing on top of the upstairs bathroom toilet to whine to my father about it in the same way I whined about everything from wanting something from the ice cream truck to having a bad dream. I have no idea why I liked the name so much, but I can only guess that it was either because Nicholas was the only boy's name I knew at the time or because I had already experienced the effects of having an odd name.

My father didn't want to name me Annika. Growing up as a Rudolph, he knew what it was like to be the kid with the funny name. I didn't understand why until I heard the classic Christmas carol "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" for the first time. I couldn't help but laugh at my father. What could be funnier than imagining your own father as a reindeer with a very shiny nose? So in an attempt to avoid all possibly connections to unflattering popular culture references, my father wanted to stay away from all uncommon names. For whatever reason, though, some of my mother's Swedish friends had the power to convince my parents that Annika was going to be my name. (I assume it had something to do with my mother's attachment to Sweden and my father's obsession with being married to a Swedish woman).

So I was born Annika and my brother was born Alex, contrary to some people's opinion. By the first grade I hated my name. Kids, teachers and parents alike could not pronounce it correctly and being the shy kid that I was, it was utterly difficult to open my mouth and whisper the correct pronunciation. I've heard my name mispronounced at least a dozen different ways--like it's a disease of the anus, like it's the name of a Japanese-made VCR, the sister company of the outlet mall store Mikasa, and a strange diminutive of the name Nick (aNICKa).

But that's only when my name is read. After introducing myself, I've heard a variety of mispronunciation that are even harder to correct, the most difficult being when people think my name is "Hanukkah" and proceed to ask me if I'm Jewish. "No," I reply in a confused tone and then realize that they probably think my name is the name of one of the biggest Jewish holidays of the year. Eventually I or someone else corrects them before they continue calling me a Jewish holiday, but who knows if some people I've met have gone on thinking my name is Hanukkah.

Rather than just mispronouncing my name, sometimes others ask me questions about the origin of my name. The most intriguing question was posed to me by a boy probably around the age of 14 after first meeting me and my two best friends. "Did your parents mean to name you Monica but forgot the 'm'?" he asked me as sincerely as possible. I didn't know what to say. There were two things wrong with this question: first, he was assuming that my name was spelled completely phonetically and like a vacuum cleaner brand and second, he was assuming that my parents are idiots that can't spell. But there was no possible way I could portray all of this to this gangly, preteen creature in a polite, concise way, so I simply replied, "No," and everybody laughed.

But as most would assume, I've grown into my name and have the confidence to correct people when they mispronounce it. Over the past few months at least a handful of people have informed me that they know a little girl named Annika, so it seems the name is on the rise and on its way to leaving the category of weird names. But today when I told my brother that I wanted him to be named Nicholas, we contemplated the idea of it, and thought nothing of it. Not much would be different--he would probably feel like the same person and others would see him as the same person, although I would have been a happier child. When he announced that he wishes he were named Hans, though, I took it back. I imagined him going around wearing nothing but tight, black turtle necks and reminding people of Hansel & Gretel or even the foreign ice cream brand Häagen Das. It wouldn't be a bad name for him though--as long as he's okay with being forever associated with candy-eating Germans and things like that.