Dear Reader,

In a lesser-known (for good reasons) Jimmy Stewart movie, Mr. Stewart’s character wishes to find a nice young man for his daughter to meet.  Accordingly, he yells to a group of unknown boys, “Hey, Joe!”  One of them turns to look; he is confused but approaches.  I’ll spare you the full 1962 plotline, but suffice it to say that the teen lovebirds hit it off, and at some point the match-making patriarch reveals his method:  “It’s from my experience that there’s usually one Joe in a group of fellows.” 

I think he’s onto something.  I noticed one day, as people were signing up for the Hearth & Field mailing list, that there were a seemingly disproportionate number of people named Joe on the list.  We do not divulge subscriber data of course; we’re careful with that sort of thing.  But I’ve consulted our privacy policy, and there appears to be no prohibition against letting you know, in (semi-)anonymous aggregate, that there are a lot of Joe’s.  

Although Joe does not quite rise to the level of Mary — the latter claiming the number one spot for female names in the United States over the past century — Joe is nonetheless up there as things go among men.  In fact, the word can be used almost synonymously, in a generic sense with “man” — consider phrases such as “the average Joe,” or “GI Joe” (which, predating plastic action figures, means any enlisted male soldier.) 

In the fairly recent past, it was common to name children uncommon names.  But subsequently, it seems to me, it became common to name children common names again, perhaps as the only remaining way of naming them something uncommon.  Despite minor perturbations in the graph, names such as Mary and Joe seem to be holding their own over the long haul.

I’ve been pondering this matter in connection with Mrs. Gina Loehr’s recent article “What’s in a Name?”  If you didn’t catch that one previously, you should check it out.  As it happens, Mrs. Loehr’s husband is named Joe.  He’s a fine fellow.  My brother is also Joe — also a fine fellow.  In fact, I’m fairly certain I’ve not met a Joe I didn’t like.  (There may be a few notable historic and contemporary exceptions to the pattern.)

A name both separates and connects.  All the fine fellows named Joe are distinct from those named John, while in some way connected with all the other Joe’s.  When a boy is christened with the name, some measure of Joe-ness is imbued into his person.  But in another sense, as I said, all men are Joe, or at least ought to be. There is a certain solemnity about that.

Sincerely,