Last week I wrote about reconciling a baby name between two grandmothers with strong opinions. This week, I’d like to talk about my own name, which nobody negotiated for on my behalf, and which has caused me more trouble than my son Neri’s ever will.
Eli is for my great-grandfather from Baghdad. Saba Eliyahu, the Hebrew for Elijah. In Israel, this is the least remarkable fact about me.
My middle name is where it falls apart.