T.S. Eliot noted "The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter/It isn't just one of your holiday games; You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter/When I tell you, a cat must have three different names." And if finding feline names is purr-plexing, what can you say about naming children? One false move, even in the best of families, and you've given them a bad name (shem ra) for life. In the wonderful "Le'kol Ish Yesh Shem" - "Every person has a name" - the poet Zelda also notes that everyone has the name given by God, by parents and by behavior and circumstances ("Shenatna lo komato/V'ofen hiyucho" - "given by his stature and the way he smiles." A friend in the States recently asked me for name suggestions for a baby who is what doctors describe as a "precious pregnancy" - sadly implying that there is some other kind. Jewish kids in the Diaspora, like Old Possum's practical cats, also often have three different names: their English first name (not a Christian name), known in Hebrew as shem prati (private name), their Hebrew name (shem Ivri) and their nickname (shem hiba - name of affection - or kinui) which often seems to be initials. It's a minefield. Dudu, which served generations of Israelis just fine as a derivative of David, does not smell as sweet in America, while someone with the initials P.P. would have the you-know-what knocked out of him over here. For my Stateside friend looking for a way to express her gratitude, Shai (a gift) is not an option (at least not if the child inherits his mother's outgoing nature). The obvious suggestions are variations on a theme: Yonatan/Jonathan or Matanya (both God-given) or Matan (gift) for a boy, Hodaya (thanksgiving) and Netanya for a girl. But these might be too common. According to the Jerusalem Municipality, Yonatan and Hodaya were the most popular names for boys and girls among the first-graders who started studying at the city's state-religious schools last week. In the non-religious state schools, the names Daniel and Amit (friend) took pride of place for boys and Noa and Adi for girls. In the haredi schools, the most common names were David and Sara. Naming for a relative seems a relatively easy option - until you have to decide on who gets the honor. In Israeli-style mixed marriages (Ashkenazi and Sephardi), it can be a life-and-death issue. Ashkenazim tend to name for deceased relatives, while Sephardim perpetuate a name in a person's own lifetime. Then there are the names that go out of fashion or take on an entirely different meaning. Only a yoram would be called Yoram nowadays. While the name is composed of God's name and the word "ram," "high," it has seriously fallen from grace, becoming an epithet used to describe a nerd. Wordsmith Ruvik Rosenthal suggests the expression might have been influenced by the names of the heroes of Holocaust books for children such as "Al ma bacha Yoram" (What was Yoram crying about). The Me generation has sprouted a slew of names with "li" ("my") in them. I am quite possessive about my own - li-at, "you are mine," although, in an interesting spin on the concept of name dropping, certain rabbinic authorities are now suggesting leaving the "li" names, well, alone because they are too egocentric. In Hebrew names, even the numerical value counts. The gematria (the numerical count of the letters) all adds up to something significant, we're told. Of course, there are also family names to be considered. I know a couple debating changing their surnames instead of hyphenating what they were born with. And a female friend likes to point out: When women fight to keep their own family names after marriage, they are usually preserving their fathers' names, not their mothers'. Speaking of which, recently two American-Jewish surnames have taken on a life of their own in the Holy Land. A "Talansky" has come to mean a private source of funding after the prime minister's friend and backer, Moshe Talansky, who is being questioned over possible involvement in one or more of the Olmert scandals. I bet the philanthropist would rather remain nameless in this context. With elections again in the air, Arthur Finkelstein is expected to once more work his magic. Can there be greater success for a PR guru than having his name branded? No wonder Finkelstein can literally name his price. But as Zelda noted, ultimately our value lies in our deeds and our good name (shem hatov). liat@jpost.com

Hebrew Hear-Say: You name it

In Hebrew names, even the numerical value counts.