Cathay, a mellifluous appellation whose syllables sail like a clipper on a silk-laden breeze, traces its etymological chart to the medieval Latin “Cathaya,” the old European moniker for China that itself descends from the Khitan dynasty; thus, even before a child so named can toddle, she carries in her pocket a passport stamped with centuries of transcontinental lore. While the name may be read as an adventurous cousin of Catherine—sharing the Greek root katharós, “pure,” and offering the tidy domestic nickname “Cat”—its historical resonance is decidedly outward-looking, calling to mind Marco Polo’s caravan chronicles and, in more recent memory, the azure livery of Cathay Pacific jetting across the Pacific skies. Demographically, the United States embraced Cathay only in cameo appearances during the Truman and Eisenhower years, when a mere seven newborns at most (1952) answered to it, ranking just inside the national top 700; such rarity lends the name the quiet glamour of an out-of-print first edition. For parents today who prefer a moniker that marries intellectual pedigree with the romance of far-flung horizons, Cathay offers an elegant solution—at once scholarly, sinuous, and, in the driest possible sense, geographically suggestive.
| Cathay Williams - |