In Jewish tradition, boys are not named until they are eight days old. The names are publicly announced for the first time at their brit milah, the ceremony that includes their circumcision. Following that part of the ritual, the father recites the following blessing:
Praised be Thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has sanctified us by Thy commandments, and hast bidden us to make him enter into the covenant of Abraham our father.
The wine is blessed and a little bit of wine put on the baby’s mouth. And then, finally, the world hears the baby’s name for the first time. For obvious reasons, we were unable to have a brit milah after eight days and we won’t be having one any time soon. But today our wonderful rabbi, Lisa Edwards, and our synagogue’s former cantor, Fran Chalin, came with us into the NICU at Cedars and performed a beautiful ceremony over Charlie’s incubator in which we gave Hebrew names to both of our boys.
Charlie opened his tiny blue eyes and gazed at the four of us as he received the name that he will carry with him from this day forward:
Chaim Yehuda Shmuel, son of Moshe David and Yehudit Esther
Chaim comes from the word chai which means “life.” According to Kaballah, giving a person the name Chaim improves their health and helps them remain strong. Hebrew letters also stand for numerals and the letters that spell chai are the number 18 which is considered a lucky number in Jewish culture. Yehuda, which means praise, is for my mother, Judy Miller, whose Hebrew name was Yehudit. Kendall took the name Yehudit to honor my mom when she converted several years ago. Shmuel is for my grandfather, Samuel Karoll. In the Bible Samuel was the first major prophet. In the Book of Samuel, the story is told of his mother naming her son Shmuel in memory of her requesting a child from God and God listening. Shmuel translates to “God has heard.”
Rabbi Lisa also said a prayer for our son Oliver, whose absence from our lives is an excruciating hole that will never be filled. His Hebrew name is:
Yitzchak Gabriel Elad, son of Moshe David and Yehudit Esther.
Yitzchak is for my great-grandfather, Itshe Meyer Korolnek, the patriarch of our family who I’ve written about so many times. Those Korolnek genes are very strong and in our twelve hours with our son, I remember thinking how much he resembled Itshe Meyer, a Ger Hasid who emigrated from Staszow, Poland over a hundred years ago. As I’ve written, my great-grandfather was an amazing, unique, and powerful man and I would like to think that he has taken our son under his wing. Yitzchak also translates as “he will laugh,” a perfect name for any child in our family, especially for Kendall and her dad Oliver whose laughs were so full-bodied and legendary that they were sought out by their troupe of actor friends to stock the audiences of various plays or performances. I loved watching Kendall laugh during an ultrasound and and I used to regale her and the doctors with my pantomime of our boys' in utero response to the sound waves. The name Gabriel appears in the Bible in the Book of Daniel. He is one of the angels closest to God and makes a star appearance in the musical “Anything Goes” which Leah and I love. (“I want to join your happy band, and play all day in the Promised Land. So blow, Gabriel, blow! Come on you scamps, get up you sinners! You're all too full of expensive dinners! Stand up on your lazy feet and sing! Blow Gabriel, blow!”) Elad means eternity or “Eternal God.”
Fran sang a song for Charlie and then one for Oliver. Charlie was transfixed by Fran’s heavenly voice as were the other babies nearby—it was as good as a “comfort hold” and none of the babies started “Bradying down” or “desatting” (NICU humor—when the babies' heart and respiratory rates plummet) as they can do when they hear unfamiliar sounds. Rabbi Lisa also said a prayer for Charlie’s caregivers, the two nurses that were assigned to him today as well as all the doctors and nurses that are caring for him around the clock. Here is Fran singing to Charlie:
I was thinking today about my little teaser a few months ago in which I said that the twins each had a Broadway showtune all their own. People started speculating on what names we had chosen for our boys and the tongue-in-cheek guesses made me scream with laughter. Tevye and Pippin? Peter Pan and Pal Joey?
Oliver was named after Kendall’s dad, Oliver Hailey. It’s obvious what Broadway show I was referring to with him. I spent most of Kendall’s pregnancy singing his title song into her belly:
Oliver, Oliver
Never before has a boy wanted more!
Oliver, Oliver
He won't ask for more when he knows what's in store
There's a dark, thin winding stairway without any banister
Which we'll throw him down
And feed him the cockroaches served in a canister
Oliver, Oliver
What will he do when he's turned black and blue
He will rule the day when somebody named him OL-I-VER!
Not exactly the cheeriest song but one that I’ve always loved from one of my all-time favorite musicals. Oliver’s middle name was Thomas after Kendall’s beloved uncle who died two years ago. Long before we found out Kendall was pregnant, much less with twins, we planned on naming any boy we might have Oliver. During the pregnancy the babies were referred to as Baby A and Baby B. We hadn’t decided who was who and we knew we wouldn’t until we met them. I can’t explain why we knew Oliver was Oliver and Charlie was Charlie on that terrifying and sad day three weeks ago but we just did. And so we had to let Oliver go.
Our son Charles is named for Kendall’s close friend, the late Charles Nelson Reilly. I’m guessing he may be the only baby in the history of the Cedars-Sinai NICU named after that crazy and wonderful man. When Oliver died, we wanted Charles to have a part of his older brother with him so we inserted Oliver Thomas inside Charles’ full name. We haven’t forgotten Charles’ original middle name, Somers, after Kendall’s godmother, the late Brett Somers, who was Charles Nelson Reilly’s “Match Game” sparring partner. My God, how the two of them could make us laugh. May Charlie/Chaim have a life full of such laughter, as good a medicine as anything in the NICU. It’s been too painful to me to even think of any of the songs from “Oliver” since our son died, but starting tomorrow I am going to sing the entire score to Charlie as a tribute to his older brother.
Cheerio but be back soon,
I don't know somehow I'll miss you
I love you that's why I
Say cheerio, not goodbye
Don't be gone long, be back soon
Give me one long last “God bless you!”
Remember our old tune,
Be back soon!
G-d bless you, Danny, your beautiful children, and Kendall. Thank you for being so open and sharing this very challenging time in your life with your readers.
Posted by: Adriana Bliss | May 18, 2009 at 11:36 PM
I was thinking as I read your words today that you have the spirit of the best kind of patriarch. How fortunate for your children that they will be able to grow up and see your family history, and their own, told with such tenderness and detail.
You are an amazing man, Danny Miller. Continued blessings to you, Kendall, Charlie, and Leah.
Posted by: Jane | May 19, 2009 at 02:21 AM
Mazal tov! You are all blessed!
Posted by: tamarika | May 19, 2009 at 02:58 AM
A reminder of how we all draw strength and courage from those who came before us and from the Source of all goodness.
Blessings on your boys, wrapped in prayers and love.
V-Grrrl
Posted by: Compost Studios | May 19, 2009 at 03:05 AM
Thoughts remain with all of you.
Posted by: Pam G | May 19, 2009 at 04:14 AM
Wonderful names, Danny. I love that picture of you with your great grandfather. You were always such a cutie. Still thinking about you and your family everyday.From my family to yours:
We'd risk life and limb
To keep you in the swim
Yes we'd do anything
Anything?
Anything for you
Posted by: Maria Sosa | May 19, 2009 at 04:28 AM
You are an amazing man, Danny, and I applaud your great sense of, and respect for tradition. I keep on checking on Charlie, and admire your fortitude, and Kendall's, in the face of what seems overwhelming for anyone.
Posted by: Elisabeth | May 19, 2009 at 04:32 AM
Congratulations on the naming and you've chosen some wonderful names. You've given Charlie the opportunity to grow up with a strong sense of his history and Oliver to be remembered with the same.
Posted by: Jeff | May 19, 2009 at 06:01 AM
You've done it again! What a sweet start to my day. Julie
Posted by: Julie Levin Freireich | May 19, 2009 at 06:38 AM
This is so moving, personal, interesting and beautiful. Thoughts and prayers continue for you and your family. Blessings, Chris
Posted by: Chris | May 19, 2009 at 07:38 AM
Beautiful photograph of two brothers.
Many blessings to little Chaim and vast Yitzchak, and to you all.
Posted by: Richard Lawrence Cohen | May 19, 2009 at 08:40 AM
no words...no words are coming to me. only the feelings of love and compassion as the tears flow.
peace and courage to you...all.
Posted by: kris D. | May 19, 2009 at 10:46 AM
Danny, your description of the ceremony made me feel as if I were there. Those babies were lucky to get serenaded. It must have been nice for the staff, too.
Kendall's laughter...I can hear it now. How cute that you worked laughter into Oliver's Hebrew name.
Love,
Julie
Posted by: Julie R. | May 19, 2009 at 11:21 AM
Mazel Tov, Danny & Kendall,
My prayers are with you and your precious sons. Charlie looks to be doing well and I'm rooting for him every day.
Love,
Lori
Posted by: Lori Kirkland Baker | May 19, 2009 at 11:25 AM
I'd like to think that hand gesture was a sign from your beloved great grandfather that he was watching over your twins. Lovely names for your sons. I guess everyone guessed who Charles was named for, I know I did. It's so soothing to hear a woman's voice chanting prayers in Hebrew. I'll continue to pray for your family to be strong.
Posted by: Judy | May 19, 2009 at 11:55 AM
Simply Beautiful, Danny. Love surrounds you. G-d Bless.
Posted by: Wendi Goodman | May 19, 2009 at 11:59 AM
Dear Danny,
Through my tears, I wish you and Kendall a hearty MAZEL-TOV on the naming of your Chaim. May Oliver's memory be a blessing to you all.
Love,
Marilyn
Posted by: Marilyn Molnar | May 19, 2009 at 12:19 PM
I love the history of all your sons' names. Great post.
Posted by: churlita | May 19, 2009 at 12:52 PM
Oh, to hear Kendall's wonderful laugh. May
Charlie hear it often over the many years to come. And may you kleib naches (sp?) from your little boy.
Love,
Cynthia
Posted by: Cynthia Reich | May 19, 2009 at 01:20 PM
מזל טוב on your sons' naming!
Posted by: Otir | May 19, 2009 at 02:19 PM
I didn't know Charlie was named after Charles Nelson Reilly, but I must say I am very impressed, and will never watch the Match Game again, without thinking of your son, now.
Love that he opened his blue eyes and gazed at you all...
What is the website of the woman who is organizing food and stuff? I need to send up some wine.
Posted by: Shannon | May 19, 2009 at 07:57 PM
This is lovely. Such beautiful words. So sorry for your loss as well.
(Here from Neil's tweet. Not a freaky stalker.)
Congratulations on your Charlie. What a blessing!
Posted by: Headless Mom | May 20, 2009 at 10:58 PM
A Beautiful Post, in every way...! I love that all your musical references are from shows....and very feeling shows, at that...As I said above, Music and Musicals are transforming and I think it is GREAT that you will br singing ther entire score to your dear Charlie for your dear Oliver...
Posted by: OldOldLady Of The Hills | May 21, 2009 at 01:36 AM
Thank you for sharing this.
Posted by: Maria | May 21, 2009 at 03:58 AM
Hi there Danny. Judi, Candace Semigran, Julia and Morgan Pepper, setting up the meeting room for Insight in Ojai this weekend. We are sending love your way and picturing your Broadway baby loving his serenade.
Posted by: Judi | May 21, 2009 at 11:29 AM
Will start with the misherberachs.
Posted by: david | May 21, 2009 at 04:51 PM
Dear Charlie,
I heard through the grapevine that you're in surgery right now. I'm not sure what happened between the last bit of good news and now, but my heart fell somewhere deep in my chest and started beating like a war drum in an ancient Western. That made me think about John Wayne, which led me to think about another manly actor, Charlton Heston. . .which led me to think about Anne Baxter. . . and then of course I thought about your father, who could probably name every film and broadway legend who ever lived, and your mother, who was born to the arts. . .
One day, they'll tell you all about it -- in fact, I'm sure they can't wait to share the thousands of stories that have enriched their lives, and infuse you with their love of all things creative -- but right now they are full of anxiety and worry. They wish the could pull strength from their own bodies and give it to you so you wouldn't have to fight so hard. They wish there was a hero in your life who could charge in on a white horse and save you from danger, or better yet, one who had direct access to one of God's miracles.
As I was imagining the pounding hooves of horses charging across the plains, and the great cracks of thunder in the sky that preceded God's words, something occurred to me. . .
Yes. . .
Of course it makes sense. . .
I see it more clearly now. . .
You are practicing for a life of adventure, drama, and somewhere down the line (you were named after Charles Neilson Reilly after all), comedy.
God himself may have decided that you needed further rehearsal, but Charlie? You have a whole lifetime ahead of you to hone your craft. Right now the callback that awaits you is a crib at home, in a wondrous Victorian setting, with a cast of characters whose love for you knows no bounds. The callback to God's arms can wait 80, 90, or 100 years. You have way too much to do here, and there are too many earthly hearts that you need to touch before you can even consider joining Oliver to entertain those in Heaven.
I am sitting in the audience, holding my breath, cheering you on, and I don't want any more intermissions, Charlie. I want the curtains lifted, the lights turned on, and I want you to hear the thunder of applause that awaits your happy ending. I want you to see your family, standing in the front, with tears of joy, not sorrow, streaming down their faces.
I want to see you smile, Charlie. I want to see your face light up with joy as you skip off the stage and into jump into your parent's loving arms. That's the best possible ending for this script, and if I could write it -- if any of us could write it -- we would. Instead, we wait for you to take your cue.
Take your cue, Charlie.
All the Love & Hope in The World,
Jane
Posted by: Jane | June 03, 2009 at 01:11 PM
I am a relative of yours from Australia.Itche Mayer was a half brother of Moishe Chaim Koralnek,my greatgrandfather.Please email me.
David Black,Melbourne,Australia
Posted by: David Black | May 28, 2010 at 11:39 PM