Tag: Southern names

What’s in a name, part 3

(This is the final installment of a three-part series on why we gave each of our boys their name. Barron’s birthday is Feb. 6, so today’s post is timed to coincide with that wonderful, life-changing event. Happy 22nd, Barron!)

What’s in a name? For us, it’s family.

Our three boys are roughly four years apart in age. We wanted each to have a strong, distinctive name. Carla and I always thought names had more meaning when they came from beloved and respected ancestors. Passing on their names extends the memory of those who have gone before and gives our children a differentiator in a world where so many boys their age bear trendy names.

Naming was the opposite of parenting. It became harder as we had more children. With each child we learned how to be better parents, but with each male child, we had a more difficult time selecting a name we liked with a meaningful family connection.

Collage of photos of in a frame of Barron Wallace as an infant with his mother, Carla Wallace.
Carla and her first baby, Barron Elliott, 22 almost 22 years ago.

Our first born is Barron Elliott Wallace. It’s only a slight exaggeration to say we decided what our oldest son would be called about six minutes after we got engaged. As soon as we started talking seriously about our future, we settled on family names like “Ruth” and “Helen” for a girl and “Barron,” Carla’s maiden name, for a boy.

Continuing Carla’s family name is a lot for Barron to carry, but since she was an only child, we both felt the urge to give her family name to our firstborn. “Elliott,” his middle name, originated with my grandmother. Her maiden name is both my and my father’s middle name. It rolls off the tongue in combination with “Barron,” and it pays tribute to my father’s mother’s family.

Barron likes the distinctiveness of his name. He appreciates his connection to his roots. As his college studies focus on furnishings and interiors with an emphasis on historic preservation, he lives into his name. He is pursuing a career restoring objects and structures from the past.

Barron Wallace grinning from ear to ear in his Redcoat marching band uniform at the 2023 college football National Championship game at SoFi Stadium in Los Angeles.
Don’t he look like a Barron?

Whenever anyone brings up the youngest child of former president Donald Trump, our Barron is quick to point out, “I had the name first.” He’s soon to be 22 years old, and I cannot imagine Barron having any other name.

What’s your name?

"Mr. Lance" with his Tiger and Webelos, Harris and Barron.
"Mr. Lance" with his Tiger and Webelos, Harris and Barron.

After going through Cub Scouts all the way from Bobcat to Webelos with my oldest son, Barron, I’m now re-entering the cycle with Harris, my middle son. Only this time, I’ve put myself on the sacrificial altar of den leadership.

Planning and executing meetings and outings with my co-leader, Kathy, isn’t the hard part. The challenge is building good relationships with the boys, finding the right balance between authority and approachability that makes the experience enjoyable and meaningful for them.

Last month our den met for the first time, and I was once again faced with a conundrum. When introducing myself to a group of children I’m about to lead in an activity, I have no idea how to refer to myself.

Am I Mr. Lance or Mr. Wallace?

As a child, I was always taught to call people by their last name with the appropriate courtesy title, as in “Mr. Smith” or “Mrs. Jones.” But when I became an adult, I was reluctant to insist on children calling me the stodgy “Mr. Wallace” and often opted for “Mr. Lance.”

To me, the first name with courtesy title approach is more informal and friendly. Using a person’s last name with a courtesy title feels stuffy and self-important. I prefer “Mr. Lance” in most settings because I think of myself as friendly and approachable. It’s as much about how I see myself as how I want the kids to see me.

I first adopted the title of “Mr. Lance” back when I taught a group of about a dozen boys in a missions class on Wednesday nights at my church in Macon. I was comfortable being “Mr. Lance” back then because I was newly married, still in my 20s and didn’t have any children of my own. Three minutes into the first session I realized I needed a whistle, lion-tamer’s chair and more authority than even “Mr. Wallace” could create.

Scarlett O'Hara
I guess you have to go by "Miss Scarlett" if you've been married so many times people don't know whether to call you Ms. O'Hara, Mrs. Hamilton, Mrs. Kennedy or Mrs. Butler.

I have a theory about this calling-adults-by-their-first-name-with-a-courtesy-title business. I think it’s Southern. It wasn’t until I got to Macon that I ever heard this practice. And now whenever I hear it or say it, I can’t help but think of Miss Scarlet from
“Gone With the Wind.”

There are some settings in which I prefer the use of my last name. When I’m in a waiting room for a doctor’s appointment, for example, I don’t want to be called “Mr. Lance.” That’s just weird. When it’s time for me, just call me “Mr. Wallace.” There are plenty of settings when formality and distance are preferred.

My reaction against “Mr. Wallace” isn’t because it sounds like my dad. My dad is a preacher, so he is rarely referred to as Mr. Wallace. In fact, he goes by a courtesy title that’s even scarier to me: Rev. Wallace. Because both my brothers are ordained Baptist ministers, they may have more of an issue with being confused with our father than I do.

So what is your practice? Is this a Southern thing? How should kids refer to adults in the New South?

For now, I think I’ll stick with Mr. Lance. I’ve got a whole den of Tiger cubs calling me that, so turning back is not an option.