Feldman, on the other hand, has stood the test of time. My father was a Feldman, and his father before him, although I think that's where it may have begun. Before that we seem to have just been filed under "Jews, miscellaneous." Once we had a genealogist look into it, but it turns out most Eastern European municipalities registered their dogs with more care, and apparently none of the early Feldmans was willing to fetch.

We probably had a long and illustrious history. Since the Jews and Columbus left Spain at the same time (they heard he was going to Miami, and it was getting to be October), it's quite possible there may have been a Feldman aboard the Nina or the Pinta (less likely on the Santa Maria) unless Columbus did his own payroll. And Benjamin sounds Jewish -- who's the say he didn't change it to "Franklin"? Even the Bible is of little help, since it tells that Terah begat Abram, Nahor and Haran, but not that Feldstein begat Finestein and Feldman, if that's how it worked. Some hold with spontaneous generation, but I don't think God would play dice with the Feldmans.

Anyway, the recent history has been solid, producing a rainbow of professionals from the tax islands to the islets of Langerhans, all ready to be bestowed on babycakes, once we get her first name out of the way. Consuela favors "Estelle" while I'd like something more contemporary, like "Arsenia." She considers the "a" to be too diminutive, even though she has that ending herself and it certainly isn't as small as it used to be. So I guess Pftatateeta is out, despite its Third World redolence (usually a lock on Consuela's imagination).

Looking for roots, I pored over a list of Hebrew names, but they all seem to put a lot on the line: "Hannah," "graceful" -- well, we'll see (odds are against, unless it skips generations); "Rebecca," "captivating beauty" -- which nobody told the Rebeccas I went to school with; "Sarah," "princess" -- redundant; "Bat Sheva," "daughter of an oath" -- on the money, but legal-sounding and too close to "daughter of an oaf" anyway; or "Dikla," "date palm" -- never, not on your frond.

"Molly" is versatile because, like "Michael," it can pass for Irish. It was high on Consuela's list, but I have an aunt Molly and I don't want to confuse my mother any further. There are already three "roses" creating a bramble in the family thicket, plus she thinks the Pekinese of one of them (My brother Arthur's Rose) is her own baby son "David," my father's name and also that of most of the males of the current generation.

Today I go to the library for a list of nonsense syllables. And a Croatian dictionary, just to be safe.