In 1928, the year of my birth, the name given to me ranked number six in popularity among American boys’ names. By contrast, in 2007 the name Richard did not even make the top 20.

Nor do I ever recall any boy named Richard in my daughter’s public school classes from 1985 to 1997. In baseball, the worst hitters fall below the Mendoza line, with batting averages under 200. That must be where Richard lies now.

Eighty years ago, the most popular girl’s name was Mary, while Robert led the list for newborn boys. Among the 20 most popular male names were those that might have been expected in the then predominant white society.

John, James, William, Charles, Donald, George, Joseph, and Edward filled out the first ten.

Surprisingly, the name Michael was nowhere in sight. However, in the 1980s and beyond, this name became number one. It was only supplanted in the 21st century when Jacob came up fast on the inside and took over first place.

In recent decades, the name given most often to girls became Emily. That has surprised my wife and me because when we gave that name to our daughter in 1980, Emily lagged far behind.

At that time, Jennifer led the list, with Emily not even ranking among the first 20.

In 1928, the second most popular girl’s name was Betty. Following that came Dorothy, Helen, Margaret, Ruth, Doris, Barbara, Virginia, and Shirley.

Names hold great importance for me. It makes a difference what I am called and my name means something significant to me.

In this instance, Richard recalls my maternal grandfather, whose first name I was given at birth. Not that I ever knew him; he died 18 years before I arrived on the scene.

But, even now, I draw inspiration from this grandfather’s life. He was an Irish immigrant, born in 1859, who traveled in steerage aboard the “Siberia” from Cork to Boston in 1871. He came over with his two younger brothers.

Though Richard was only 12 years old, he was listed as 13 and described in the ship’s log as a “common laborer.” The day after his arrival in the U.S., he began work in one of the many leather factories in Peabody, Massachusetts.

By the time he died at age 50, he had risen from those humble origins to own a leather factory himself. In addition, he was active in civic affairs in his adopted community and schooled himself in Shakespeare and other favorite authors. He was a man I would like to have known.

In my religious tradition, parents were required to choose a saint’s name when presenting their child for baptism. Taking matters into their own hands, some priests were likely to substitute a saint’s name when the parents had not chosen one.

My name belonged to more than one saint, but none is particularly well known. The one I take as patron was the bishop of Chichester in England. This 13th century Saint Richard was, among other things, a person who loved his studies.

Drawing on tradition, a Benedictine monk describes him as a “man of strong character, a scholar, but sensible and practical as well, energetic, kind, modest about his own powers, cheerful and courageous.”

These are qualities that strike me as highly desirable, though I see myself quite deficient in them.

This saint, fortunately, did not model the root meaning of the name. Its origins are Germanic and mean “brave power.” It sounds altogether too militaristic for my taste and I take comfort from the saint being a peaceful man.

You may think me piling too much freight on a single name. But names, for me, carry meaning. I like to find connections between them and the people who bear them.

American society, of course, has changed radically during my lifetime and continues to change. Now the range of names borne by fellow citizens is much wider than it used to be. We have more than 300 million people now and they boast a variety unknown during my childhood.

Our daughter’s early schoolmates and friends delighted us with the richness and variety of their names: in addition to Kate, Andrew, Danielle, Lucy, and several Bens, there were Sidonie, Tamar, Isa, Jamane, Che, Saquora, Tran, and Takahiro.

And, in the presidential race, two American names, John and Barack, confront each other across the generational divide.

Among this year’s baby boys, a number are sure to be named Barack. But if you want advanced word on a girl’s name that is a sure-fire bet to sweep the field soon, I will share it with you now. Based on my extensive research among small children encountered at airports, and the new grandchild of close friends, I predict that the name that will soon rise to the top is Sadie.

Richard Griffin