Somehow, when no one was looking, every kid born in the 70s and 80s was named “Seth.” Or at least every kid named Seth went to Hollywood or got a book deal or otherwise got his name foisted in front of me. 

My name, on the other hand, never made it on to the name popularity list, even at the bottom.  Not as a boy’s name anyway. Except for Moon Unit Zappa, every other girl’s middle name is either Ann or Lee. And I get my share of mail and e-mail that starts “Dear Ms…” And let’s face it, one such e-mail is enough thank you.

Some people know they are named after their father or mother, grandfather, favorite uncle, movie star, or in the case of one guy I know, family dog. I got my name because it was the shortest name my parents could come up with and my father had a thing about nicknames.

Not that it helped.  People are always asking if Lee is short for Leland or Leroy or some other ridiculous extension. And they are puzzled and maybe disappointed when I explain that it’s just Lee.

So it shouldn’t come as any surprise that, to a lot of my friends, I’m not just Lee.  I worked at the TV station in Waterloo Iowa back in the early Seth years and when I walked in for the first time, the anchor/news director who had hired me looked up and said, “well, if it isn’t Leo Swanberg.”

And for the next four years I was Leo in that newsroom. (Luckily “Swanberg” never caught on).

The name followed me to San Diego and Portland because television news is really a small community of disturbed nomads (no offense to nomads) so to many people I’ve worked with since I was 25, I’m Leo.

And that, one way or another, gets us to the grandchildren.  They are girls and no, they are not named Leo or Lee, or even Ann. But when the oldest started making sounds that her mother thought were words she asked what I wanted the baby to call me.  “I’ve always been rather fond of ‘Sir’” I said, but instead they settled on Leo.

Now the first thing I’m liable to hear in the morning is a little person’s loud voice calling “Leo-o-o-o” and it makes me feel happy all day—even though the next part of the sentence is likely to be “where’s Meme,” their grandmother.

At least they’re not asking for Seth.