Hey, you! A good name is as precious as Chanukah oil

Maybe because it was Chanukah time so when I heard my good friend and teacher Rabbi Aaron talk about oil, I was certain that he was going to be mentioning latkes in the next breath and maybe even suggest a new recipe, but then again I knew that when it comes to the recipe department even the wise rabbi, smart as he is, plays second fiddle to Millie the rebbetzin. Because as Tanta Pesha always points out, "That lady is one smart cookie, especially when it comes to baking. And believe you me, I said a mouthful." And she laughed at her own joke.

But this time the thrust of Rabbi's sermon was that a good name was even better than precious oil. And he pointed out that shem tov (a good name) and shemen tov (good oil) sounded so much alike. And so this started me thinking about names, since I leave the oil to those far more gifted than I.

How times have changed! Now students call their professors by first names, and another barrier separating student from teacher has vanished. But I remember that once many moons ago when I was teaching in The Bronx (remember that place?) a student asked me when he could call me by my first name, and I replied, "When you marry my daughter!"

But today students talk about meeting me in Pam's office or Jan's office and I have to take a deep breath because I still refer to these revered folks by their last name or by their title, THE DEAN. And I have grown quite accustomed to being hailed across the corridor with a wave of the hand and a cheerful, "Hi Doc. How's it hanging?" (Now I sort of enjoy the breezy informality even though the second part of the greeting made me check my apparel, just to make certain that...forget it. Enough already.)

And as a child, I sometimes lost my identity and was simply called by the kids as "Hey Benny's Brother. Do you want to go to the movies?" But I always felt this was better than being referred to as "Hey Kid!" although I am not too sure. It was certainly better than the way they called Izzy "Fatso" or Melvin "Four-eyes" because the former was rather plump and the latter wore glasses. And I even think it was one step above just being called "Hey There" or "Hey You" or certainly "You with the Face" by those who had (conveniently?) forgotten my Christian (Ha! I thought that would wake you up) name.

Now I must admit that even though names are important and I remember how much we toiled and thought and debated and argued before naming our children, look what happens. For example, I get so much delight when Dr. Franklin Littell spots me in the cafeteria and with a broad smile greets me with "Well, Young Fellow, what are you up to?" Now that change of name I can easily live with.

And again my mind wandered to how important names can be, and how hard I try to remember each of my student's name, although each semester it gets more difficult to keep these names in my memory since my forgettery is more powerful and students keep changing their seats so that the association process doesn't always work when I see Frank sitting where I thought Amie was. Still I do my best knowing how important names can be.

So the sermon was over and we were all thinking of going into the vestry where there would be Chanukah candies and latkes and apple sauce and we would be hugging and embracing and Yenta-Leah would tell Tanta Pesha that she has a recipe for potato pancakes that would melt in your mouth. (I think she meant the pancakes not the recipe.) It was then that a 6-year-old cherub saw me and waved and I tried to remember his name. Was it Jason? Or Joshua? I know it wasn't Izzy or Bernie because the only Bernie I knew was in his 70s. But he smiled at me and extended holiday greetings with, "Happy Chanukah, Ari's Grandpa!" And that brought a decided smile to my face since this was a name I could wear with pride. And I repeated softly, "Grandpa! That is as good as precious oil. Or perhaps even better!"