When I was a kid, there were not many little girls named Nancy (and, in fact, there are even less today). Every girl at school was named Jennifer, Meghan, Emily, Sara or some version of Alissa. I did not like my name. I clung to the precious few Nancys who were available to me, most notably my homegirl Nancy Drew. And then there was this comic strip, that for reasons due most likely to sheer inertia, was still appearing the in the funny pages of the Providence Journal in the 1980s. I tried to make it work with Nancy, pretending to enjoy her adventures with Sluggo, but, obviously, this just sucked. Not funny. However, every once and a while a strip would come along that struck a little closer to home and would make me suspect that me and the polka-dotted girl were indeed kin.
(Source: nancyishappy)
"By then, the nation was littered with Jennifers, so much that the name had become synonymous with youth and vacuity. There was even a book about us: Barbara Gordon’s “Jennifer Fever,’’ published in 1989, which endeavored to explain why so many middle-age men become obsessed with gauzy young Jennifers. Gordon told People magazine that she chose the name because Jennifers are “not scarred’’ and they have “youth and bounce and malleability.’’ But that was 20 years ago, and now, alarmingly, we appear to be dying. I realized this a few months ago, when scanning the obituaries. There, among the Janets, was a notice announcing services for a Jennifer who lived in Malden. I didn’t know her, but the name jumped out at me, and I felt a wave of sorrow and empathy for the passing of someone so young."
~ The rise and fall of Jennifers - The Boston Globe I suppose my school district in Rhode Island was an anomaly - when I started school, it seemed that every girl was named Sara, Megan, or some variation of Alicia. Middle School introduced the Jessicas and the Jennifers. And while, amazingly, there were two other Nancys in my High School, in elementary school the name seemed weird and old and destined to permanently conjure up images of a red, Adolfo-clad Nancy Reagan.