Betzi unfolds like a warm Tuscan sunrise, its two-syllable melody—BET-zee—whispered against the rolling hills of Elizabeth’s ancient melody. Born of the Hebrew Elisheva (“my God is my oath”) and carried through the graceful curves of Greek and Latin, this diminutive sparkles with promise, as though each utterance were a tiny promise of devotion tucked into the heart of a blossoming vineyard. Though fewer than a dozen American newborns wear it each year—its highest bloom of 25 in 2006 ranking it a rare 942nd—it carries a joie de vivre all its own, a lighthearted charm that swirls around your shoulders like a silk scarf in a summer breeze. In Betzi’s gentle warmth resides the echo of “dolce vita,” a playful wink to Italy’s sun-drenched piazzas and the sweet hope that every child might blossom with the same tender promise their name so lyrically imparts.