Oscar Wilde's play title 'The Importance of Being Earnest" always stuck in my head. It had nothing to do with his play, it was the title that got me going. It must have inspired my parents, my mother I'm sure, to hang that name on me. At least she took the a out of Earnest when the time came to have me baptized.
I hated, absolutely hated that stupid name -- and still do. What a dirty trick to play on a Polish kid from the west side of Detroit. My friends had names I would have killed for ... John, Mike, Ted, Chet, Jim, Tom, Pat etc. Somehow, Ernest was the wrong name in the wrong place and in the wrong time to work for me, especially when coupled with a ten letter long Polish last name that no one outside our west side ethnic ghetto could pronounce properly .
Hell, my brothers good solid names like Robert (Bob, Kenneth and Richard (Rick) names that were solid, relaxed, all American names --not at all like ERNEST. My folks meant well I suppose. They hoped to give me a one or two generation jump on other Polish kids by giving me a name they thought was a completely anglicized name. Instead they gave me a name I resented. It sounded so out of place and so sissified. It was hard to handle, especially when you added the caboose of a last name my family passed on to me. Ernest stunted my development and affected my personality/ It took over 65 years for me to accept it.
But some good came out of my experience with naming people and kids especially. My kids can be thankful that I learned a lesson and gave them names they could live with: Steve, Mike and Kathy.
So Mr Wilde, Ed and Zipper, thanks for nothing. Being Earnest was absolutely not important to me.
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