Dear Wally #51 Barry

Dear Wally:

We’re having a baby and my wife and I are in disagreement about what to name the kid. I like the name Barry. She doesn’t. What do you think? If you agree with me publicly, you might help me win this one.
-Darren
Dear Darren:
Well, first, congratulations on the baby. That is really great news. I am flattered that I have been invited to the inner sanctum of such an important family decision as baby naming- especially considering that save for the fact you read my column, we are complete strangers. (Does your wife know you have reached out to me for naming help?? I seriously doubt it and don’t envy you when she finds out). Look Darren, ‘Barry’ might be a tough sell to the wifey because a few selfish celebrity Barrys (Barries?) have damn near ruined it for all the rest of the would-be Barrys out there. I don’t really mean ruined it. Maybe I mean that because of their high-profile careers, they became larger than life, cheese caricatures of themselves. I’m a little nervous for you because these dominating Barrys from the 70’s have created a vortex that all other regular, modern-day Barrys must now struggle to escape from while simply trying to enjoy their own Barrydom in peace and without association or undue limelight. But before nixing it all together, consider that this very challenge might be your boy’s constitutional fortifier in the long run. He might be the Barry that breaks the mold.
Let’s start with the major players who are making me feel this way: (see if you can guess the Barry)
1)Flashy gold medallion (it was a medallion way before bling was coined) nestled in a thicket of matted chest hair tuffs. Locks flowing all the way from Fabio to Farrah. Frill white shirt unbuttoned to the navel. Skin tight pants and the ability to undulate slickly on the disco floor. Bright white chompers upstaging the mirror ball.
While it’s true that the 70’s had many fashion victims, no one held a gun to this Barry’s head and made him make these choices. This Barry sings in a delightful castrated falsetto. Figure it out yet? Of course, I speak of Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees. This is who we have to thank for this tarring. These days he can be found doing such things as creating the soundtrack to Good Will Hunting. He has been to a barber since his glory days and now looks like freshly shorn mutton ready for the Sheep and Wool Festival in Rhinebeck this fall. As a point of historical interest, maybe, take the ‘B’ from Barry and the ‘G’ from Gibb and you get ‘BG.’ Pluralize this by adding a few more brothers and you get Bee Gees. (There’s your ‘a-ha!!’ moment).
2) Continuing on the Barry spectrum, there’s the Walrus of Love, Barry White. Nothing more to say, except, “I’ve always loved you baby…”
3) Barry Williams, the last of the singing/ dancing 70’s Barrys I’ll cite, played the indelible role of Greg Brady in the Brady Bunch. Dashing, and charming on screen, he was our go to guy for beads, headbands, girl tips, and all things cool.
Only…we find out the back story years later in a rent-paying, tell-all book scheme-- Off camera he was making out with his TV sister Marcia (ewwwwww!?!) in the onset doghouse. (Isn’t that illegal in California??)
If I haven’t scared you away from the name, let me take this opportunity to reflect on some of the lesser known Barrys I and many others know who have done nothing but bump up the stature of the name. They are to be commended. These Barrys are professors, engineers, bartenders, fathers, brothers, sons. All outstandingly nice and accomplished in their fields. They have the respect of their peers and the love of their families. They have escaped the Barry Vortex and to this day thrive. One can’t hope for much more for one’s progeny.
I think my best move here is to recuse myself on this family matter. I’m sure your little Barry will be a cool kid. I never asked, but I assume it to be the case that your child is a male?? Not that it matters… Try it out for a few days before the ink on the birth certificate dries. See if he (or she) feels like a Barry. If he does, stick with it. If he doesn’t, leverage your stubbornness for a new car and agree to move on.
Why Barry? I forgot to ask- what’s in it for you?
Whatever you do, don’t name him Wally unless you want him to swing from a hook in the 8th grade locker room by his underwear…
Good luck and wear goggles.

-Wally

Have a question for our advice columnist or want validation for the name you chose for your child? Email him at cwn4@aol.com and he’ll try to make you feel better.
Ps: just kidding- I never spent time on the hook. I just worried I would.