“And what name will your children go by?” asked our Greek island priest, Father Panagioti a few days before we got married. “Sarracini,” responded Jason without pause. We’d never talked about it, and while I didn’t actually object to future sprogs taking Jason’s family name, his quickfire response made me think about it twice. A small spat later –– every couple needs one of those on the threshold of saying “I Do” –– and our baby Yianni was a confirmed Sarracini. The name Sarracini comes from the word Saracen. In the book, The Modern Traveller, the author says, “of the various definitions of the word saracen, I prefer the Arabic word Saraini, which means a pastoral people.” It’s a lovely name, and one that sings when you say it. Our children are proud of it, as they should be. Last week, our contractor, a wonderful Romanian fellow, played ‘O Sarracino loudly through our house and it was impossible not to sing along. And for anyone dreaming of far away places, look at the breathtaking Villa Saraceni at Scala dei Turchi in Sicily. It’s other worldly.