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- When Your Child’s Name Is a Bar Song
by Jenna Thompson
Updated: Sep. 30, 2020
Originally Published: Aug. 22, 2015
As the familiar tune floods the car, I glance at my daughter, Emma. “Make it stop,” she pleads, scrunching her face in disdain. “I don’t like this song.”
“Emma,” I reply, laughing. “This is your song!” I belt out the catchy chorus of Neil Diamond’s classic: “Sweet Emma, good times never seemed so good.” Yet, she stubbornly shakes her head from her booster seat, wishing for a getaway that’s impossible at 35 miles per hour. Changing the station is not an option.
It was over a decade ago, in the aftermath of 9/11, when my family and I attended a Neil Diamond concert, craving the comfort of nostalgia. The ’70s hits played, and my dad, with a broad smile, high-fived me as Diamond sang “Sweet Caroline.” Standing among 20,000 fans, I felt elated—a pure joy that seemed unshakeable.
But that happiness shattered two weeks later when my dad, my hero, was diagnosed with brain tumors. As despair set in, I sought ways to uplift him, even managing to get a signed letter from President Bush. “He’s a good man, isn’t he, Jenna?” my dad smiled after I read it to him. I thought, No, you are the good man, Dad. This isn’t fair.
Six months later, I sat in a cold hospital room, grieving the loss of my father. I had thought my fatigue was just grief, but I later discovered I was pregnant, cradling the bittersweet news. My heart swelled as I prepared for the arrival of my little one, unsure how I would manage a newborn amid my sorrow.
When the baby arrived a month early, we hadn’t settled on a name. I longed to honor my dad, but names like Gordon or Cleveland Teams Who Haven’t Won Since I Was Alive just wouldn’t do. As I held my tiny girl, the lyrics of “Hurt” whispered in my mind, yet this time the room was filled with vibrant flowers. In that moment, I felt my dad’s spirit, and I knew her name—Emma, a nod to the last joyful memory we shared.
As she grew, Emma would sing along to the song in stores, exclaiming, “I came down from heaven as Papa was going up!” But as she entered her tween years, she began to resist the song, perhaps because I had written to Neil Diamond, who kindly sent an 8 x 10 photo that now hung beside Elmo in her room.
Currently, as I watch her cover her ears, I see the unmistakable signs of her growing independence. I want to tell her: One day you’ll hear this song in a bar, and the chorus will connect you with others, just like the phrase “SALT” and “PEPPER” from a Jimmy Buffett tune.
I can’t believe you tried to sell Neil Diamond’s Classic Hits at our garage sale. Oh, how I wish you had known Papa. You possess his love for music and joyful spirit. Yet, here we are, and I keep my thoughts to myself as I watch her search for Selena Gomez on her iPod. I whisper to myself, “Was in the spring, and spring became a summer, who’d have believed you’d come along?”