Minnesota bucks the 'Oliver' trend and chooses Henry as most popular name for baby boys

I'm always happy to bring you the results of a new survey which shows that Minnesota is the bestest most awesomest place to have Finnish Fondue in a sauna, or the No. 1 place in the nation for hesitating a moment before eating a can of beans that's six days beyond the expiration date. (Brought to you by the American Bean Safety Council. Learn more at slightlyxpiredbeans.com)

The press releases arrive in an unstinting torrent, and most can be ignored. But I thought I'd pass along two examples that show where Minnesota stands.

First: Because February is National Cat Health Month — yes, that explains all the parades — the website onevet.com ranked cities for their feline-friendliness. Minneapolis is No. 8, based on the number of adoptions, cat-friendly cafes and vet clinics. Feel free to work this little tidbit into a conversation.

"Did you know that Minneapolis is eighth in the nation for cat-friendly cities?"

"Really? Here, let me give you my contact information. You must get a hold of me the instant that rating changes, so I can adjust my life accordingly."

The second survey, from Nameberry.com, is more interesting: popular baby names for boys. Most of the northern tier states are choosing Oliver. There's a twist you didn't see coming! (Ha ha!) Most of the bottom half of the nation chose Liam, suggesting they will all grow up to be letter carriers who walk backwards. (You got that one yet? We're all waiting. Got it? Good.)

Anyway, California, perhaps anticipating weather anomalies, chose Noah. Three states preferred to christen their lads William; one state went with James. Minnesota stands alone, bucking all these faddish monikers. Our most popular choice?

It's a fine name. But the problem with Henry, of course, is the nickname form. Hank. I don't know why. No girl named Sharon gets called Shank, no kid named Zebediah will be Zank. As a James, I'm glad I didn't get Jank. At least Jim makes sense if you truncate the word and swap out a vowel. Could've been Jam or Jum.

It's a good thing no one looks at Henrietta and converts it to Hankrietta, because that sounds like one of those mysterious organs you forget about until it gets inflamed. "Looks like a bad case of Hankrietitis. Better cut down on fatty foods, or we'll have to do a Hankriectomy."

There's nothing wrong with Hank. It has a sturdy practical sound, competent and reliable. Midwestern in its solidity. It sounds like a hammer dropped on a marble table. But how Hank emerges from the chrysalis of Henry is mysterious, since the latter name is somewhat soft and bookish. And prematurely late-middle-aged. A henpecked rotund father in a 1950s teen comedy.

Henry reached its nadir in 1980, when it was one of the least popular names, right down there with Nadir. It started climbing up the charts in 2000, possibly because all the old men with the name had died, and the next generation wished to honor their memory. Now, according to the Nameberry website, "in upmarket neighborhoods and suburbs, it seems every other boy is named either Jack or Henry."

Jack, of course, comes from John, and again I've no idea why, unless someone started to say "John" and choked on a sunflower seed shell.