My birth name and the one I carried for ~39 years was, at best, a compromise.
My father was going through one of those "OH MY IRISH PEOPLE! OH THE AULD SOD!" phases that is mandatory for every pudgy white guy--we aren't even Irish, the last name is very English, going back to the Romans landing on the island of Britain, so possibly more Italian than Irish if you want to go THAT far back, and I have done the geneaology all the way back to our ancestors getting off the boat from England, we are not Irish, but lord almighty I had to go to many Celtic Fests--and wanted to give me some long Gaelic name with lots of vowels.
No offense to Irish people or people with long Gaelic names with lots of vowels but I suspect that would've been even less fun in the rural South than the name I wound up with.
When he was out of the room, my mother scribbled down the name on the birth certificate she thought was Irish enough to be semi-normal: Shannon Patrick and sent it off, so that was my name. Unfortunately it was a "girl's name" by that point and that wasn't a lot of fun at all. I never really liked it and it didn't sound like me.
I don't remember what inspired it, but I'd fallen out with my entire family and was approaching my 40th birthday and had had my life collapse and I'd managed to rebuild it. Everything felt like a new start. I was musing one day with my wife that I was stuck with this goddamn name that I didn't like and didn't have anything to do with the people who'd given it to me and that was ridiculous and I should just change it. She said "Oh yeah, do it!"
It sounds silly but I hadn't even really thought about that as an option before? I floated the idea with my friend group and the trans folks were like YES DO IT PICK YOUR OWN NAME A NAME THAT YOU LIKE IT IS THE BEST TAKE IT FROM US.
So I looked into it and it was kind of a paperwork hassle, but it wasn't *hard*.
(The actual process is basically like a quest in a roleplaying game, like "proceed to the courthouse then go to this office and go to this office and talk to this person then go back to this office and turn in THIS then get THIS and bring it to...").
In my state, you actually file civil suit on the prosecutor's office, so I got to march in and hand the paperwork to the lady at the desk like YOU GOT SERVED. (She was very nice and I was of course polite but it was amusing. YEAH! YOU ARE SUED!).
One of the people I follow on Twitter is a guy always talking about the American Civil War and, like most men approaching Dad Age, that's one of my special interests. One day he was talking about General George Henry Thomas. He was one of the Union generals and isn't as well known as Grant and Sherman, but he was known as The Sledge of Nashville for his performance there and arguably his performance enabled Sherman *to* make the March to the Sea.
The more I looked into it, the more the guy seemed perfect:
Semi-obscure Civil War general? Check
Union? YES CHECK GOOD LORD
I play bass and have always been content in a supporting role? Check
His nickname was "Old Pap" because he took care of his dudes and my nickname was "Pappy" due to my homespun, folksy wisdom? Check
He shunned self-promotion? Check
Family shunned him? CHECK
Nickname "The Sledge of Nashville"? Metal!
Literally had a stroke and died writing an angry letter in response to a guy that criticized him? I probably will die this way yes.
I'm not a George, I knew that right off. But looking at it, I could flip it around.
Thomas: Good first name, easy nickname. Also, lapsed Catholic, being Thomas the Doubter tickled me. I would absolutely be like "Okay, Jesus, but you know I gotta see for myself." Would absolutely do my own thing and wander off to India. Also Aquainus. A+ name.
Henry: I feel for a guy, a middle name needs to be a grandpa name. (These are just my personal rules). A+ Grandpa name.
I wanted something Raven or Crow themed for my last name because goth as hell obv but also corvids are tricksters (Same) and goofballs (Same) but they will also be your friends if you make friends with them (same) but if you cross them, they will always remember your face and hassle you and tell all their friends (I have a long list of grudges and burned bridges). So I found this English surname that not a lot of people had and it sounded cool and the motto on one dubious family history site was "God feeds the ravens," which is my kind of bleak and funny. A+ motto, A+ surname.
Very happy with my decision, glad I did it, wish I'd thought of it sooner. I feel like my old name was something that was given to me but never really fit. Like when you buy a pair of shoes and, you know, they're fine and do okay. But then you put on a pair and they just *fit* like you had a cobbler make them custom and you didn't even know shoes could fit like that anymore.
Oh my god I love every word of this story. You picked a great name. I laughed out loud when you went into the Irish names and your father's attraction to all that. I'm mostly Irish abd the saints are well represented in the family tree but not the more Irish sounding ones like Erin or Shannon or Siobhan. My grandparents had a horror of being pegged so obviously Irish perhaps? This was realky wonderful to read. Congratulations on your journey and the name that was waiting for you.
I love this story and that picture of little you! My given name is Joan, but I have no idea why my parents chose it. But I'm pretty sure my dad was hoping for a boy and nicknamed me "Joey" which stuck in my family and friends circle. I still prefer to be called Joey.
I am now wondering if your Dad picked Joan so he could call you Joey more easily? They may not even know why, possibly. In any case, both names are great. Joan is a strong, beautiful "outside" name and Joey is the strong, playful, fun name that those you love know.
Your writing on the power of names -- so compelling. My parents went with a biblical name -- pretty awkward for an atheist later on -- and I think often about all the weight that comes with names when trying to figure out who you are.
Thank you, Leah. I know a family who used very biblical names for their sons even though they were never religious in any way. They just liked the names. It's interesting, isn't it ?
I don’t know the story of my own name, but I can’t imagine myself as anything other than Lisa (born in the late ‘70s, a kid of the ‘80s who still loves hanging out at the mall, who grew up in Southern California, who talks with a California accent to this day, totally a Lisa). My daughter’s name is Saoirse, which means independence/liberty in Irish (there’s three ways to pronounce it, depending on the part of Ireland/Northern Ireland; we use the most common: Seer-sha). My terrier is named after Seamus Heaney (a poet who was strongly connected to the earth).
How does a Southern CA Lisa find herself drawn to these beautiful Irish names? Are there Irish accents in your family as well as the SoCal accents? Or, is it your appreciation for the literary lights of Ireland?
The Namesake is a great book and I didn’t know they made a movie about it, so thank you for posting that. I’ll look for it on Hulu.
I have no idea why my mother picked Janice, but it went with my older brother’s name, Jim, and she wanted us both to have J names. I don’t think Janice was a popular name in 1960. She did make my middle name, Ann just like hers.
We named our daughter Catherine and she likes to be called Cat or Wren because she thinks Catherine is too formal. I gave her my grandmother’s maiden name, Mlay, so she would be reminded of her heritage on my side, which is all pure Czech. Most people think it is misspelled, missing a vowel. She reminds them that it is an Eastern European name. So it does make her connect in a weird way.
I love all of this. I think Wren or Cat are both great nicknames and every time she tells someone the spelling of Mlay is correct, she is reminded of her name story. That's beautiful. (And Frida thanks you for the compliment).
My 1944 birth certificate shows the names Kevin Peter and in 2018 I found out, thanks to a DNA exchange, who my father was and that I had a half-brother nine years older than me named Peter Kevin. My mother was single and the man who made her pregnant (my father) was Irish and married for the second time. My maternal grandparents in Wembley looked after me and my nanna gave me the name Bobby, which became Bob when I was c.11 and started secondary school. It became Robert when I met my first wife and so it has been ever since. I had nicknames too - Dodo and Tubby - both of which went by the time I was eighteen. I never discussed my birth names or who my father was with my mother because I didn’t trust her to tell me the truth, nor did I ask my grandparents. I was who I was and got on with life. Still do. Discovering the name link with my half-brother I came to the view that she loved this man called Peter (yet a second name link). I have no regrets, never have. It was a good time to be illegitimate because a good few kids I knew at school and as mates also didn’t have dads, albeit thanks to World War Two. No one ever called me a bastard or treated me different when I was growing up. The other plus for me was that I escaped being raised as a Catholic and all the angst that seemed to go with it. My grandparents weren’t religious, so I chose to go a evangelical church Sunday School in Wembley with members from the USAF base at Northolt Aerodrome, so we got lots of treats (it was here I got the name Dodo. Tubby came later). The Church and I fell out over nuclear disarmament and at a young age, about 12, I came to the conclusion that any God worth the name would not condone or allow war or violence. It seemed a heavy price to pay for free will. Still does to the Humanist I am and, for the record, I am still a unilateralist. My belief in socialism has resulted in me being called a lot of names over the years, far too many to list here, suffice to say that I nave never been offended and one in particular, which has been said the most, ‘Bastard’, always brings a smile to my face because, of course, it is true. RH.
I'm struck by the name of the half brother you discovered. I wonder if your mother knew of this other son? Your story is full of wonderful observations and mysteries along with a sense of peace with all of it. Thank you so much for sharing this, Robert!
Hello again Elizabeth. To answer your question I’m sure my mother knew nothing of my father’s other family. In 1939, on the death of his wife from TB, he placed my half-brother into the care of nuns in Dublin. My half-brother was rescued by his maternal grandmother, who raised him until he went to Liverpool (England), aged 15, in search of work. As appears to be the case, or so it seems, quite often, our stories have similarities - as well as our own birth names, the names of our first and second wives, both our eldest granddaughters are called Laura, as well as a dead half-sister with yet another woman. Using the old 1-2-3 rule this is a collection of remarkable coincidences.I was 74 and he was 83 when we found out about one another and met for the first time. As you know I’m sure, many others have had similar tales to tell. Keep up the good work. Regards Robert. PS. If you have not done remarkable coincidences, I have a life full of them. Again, I know I’m not alone.
I hated my name growing up. It is a southern name (Texas/Oklahoma where my parents grew up) and I grew up in Southern California and I never met someone else with my name. As my parents tell the story, about the time that Shirley Temple was popular, there was a child about her age in Oklahoma that was a singer on the radio and I was named after her. I was always teased about my name in school, no one knew how to pronounce it. I guess this was before phonics. Anyway, my name grew on me and for my writing I write under my maiden name now.
I am glad you responded, Gayla. I've never heard your name before and wondered about it. There was a person in my school years back named Gay but not Gayla. Unfortunately her last name was Bottoms. I say unfortunately, but what do I know? She probably loved it and had fun with it. And she was a smart, lively person. I just had a juvenile mind and probably still do.
I went to school with someone that had the first name of Gay also. Although her last name wasn't as much of a potential ridicule problem as the person you mentioned, I don't remember it being a problem, or her being teased back then. I don't know that I knew what "gay" meant in the late 60's, early 70's. It wasn't until my young adult years that I realized what her first name could mean.
Yes it did scootch in there, Andria. I couldn't NOT use it. I can't wait for one of those moments when I call her and the whole entire name unspools. All those names feel so good to say.
My father wanted to name me Loretta after Loretta Young. My mother wanted to name me Margo after her mother Maggie. They settled on Sandra, never a nickname, and I'm fine with it. But at age 35, I changed my last name. (I had been married twice, always taking the husband's last name, I was ready for my own new name.) I named myself de Helen after my mother Helen, my favorite teacher Helen Berg, and my first employer Helen Houston. I believe my mother was named after Helen Houston as well. I've been Sandra de Helen longer than I had any other name. It's who I am.
No idea how my name came about. I was the third daughter in a little over three years and I think my parents were exhausted at changing the selected and hoped for boys' names to girls'. So I'm Judith Anne (I got that fancied up "e"). Judy to most all. My sister called me Judy Lamb, and I still do, sometimes, when I'm feeling sorry for myself. I've been married three times and took the man's name each time. First one: Boyd and I liked the way the ascenders and descenders of the "y"s and the "d"s looked when printed out Judy Boyd. I don't plan on marrying again and I don't plan on changing my name again.
Oh and PS speaking of cat's names, let us not forget about "The Naming of Cats" by T.S. Eliot.
No let's not forget "The Naming of Cats". I've taken both my husband's names too. I will die with the name i have now. Hopefully no time soon . Thank you for this, Judy!
My birth name and the one I carried for ~39 years was, at best, a compromise.
My father was going through one of those "OH MY IRISH PEOPLE! OH THE AULD SOD!" phases that is mandatory for every pudgy white guy--we aren't even Irish, the last name is very English, going back to the Romans landing on the island of Britain, so possibly more Italian than Irish if you want to go THAT far back, and I have done the geneaology all the way back to our ancestors getting off the boat from England, we are not Irish, but lord almighty I had to go to many Celtic Fests--and wanted to give me some long Gaelic name with lots of vowels.
No offense to Irish people or people with long Gaelic names with lots of vowels but I suspect that would've been even less fun in the rural South than the name I wound up with.
When he was out of the room, my mother scribbled down the name on the birth certificate she thought was Irish enough to be semi-normal: Shannon Patrick and sent it off, so that was my name. Unfortunately it was a "girl's name" by that point and that wasn't a lot of fun at all. I never really liked it and it didn't sound like me.
I don't remember what inspired it, but I'd fallen out with my entire family and was approaching my 40th birthday and had had my life collapse and I'd managed to rebuild it. Everything felt like a new start. I was musing one day with my wife that I was stuck with this goddamn name that I didn't like and didn't have anything to do with the people who'd given it to me and that was ridiculous and I should just change it. She said "Oh yeah, do it!"
It sounds silly but I hadn't even really thought about that as an option before? I floated the idea with my friend group and the trans folks were like YES DO IT PICK YOUR OWN NAME A NAME THAT YOU LIKE IT IS THE BEST TAKE IT FROM US.
So I looked into it and it was kind of a paperwork hassle, but it wasn't *hard*.
(The actual process is basically like a quest in a roleplaying game, like "proceed to the courthouse then go to this office and go to this office and talk to this person then go back to this office and turn in THIS then get THIS and bring it to...").
In my state, you actually file civil suit on the prosecutor's office, so I got to march in and hand the paperwork to the lady at the desk like YOU GOT SERVED. (She was very nice and I was of course polite but it was amusing. YEAH! YOU ARE SUED!).
One of the people I follow on Twitter is a guy always talking about the American Civil War and, like most men approaching Dad Age, that's one of my special interests. One day he was talking about General George Henry Thomas. He was one of the Union generals and isn't as well known as Grant and Sherman, but he was known as The Sledge of Nashville for his performance there and arguably his performance enabled Sherman *to* make the March to the Sea.
The more I looked into it, the more the guy seemed perfect:
Semi-obscure Civil War general? Check
Union? YES CHECK GOOD LORD
I play bass and have always been content in a supporting role? Check
His nickname was "Old Pap" because he took care of his dudes and my nickname was "Pappy" due to my homespun, folksy wisdom? Check
He shunned self-promotion? Check
Family shunned him? CHECK
Nickname "The Sledge of Nashville"? Metal!
Literally had a stroke and died writing an angry letter in response to a guy that criticized him? I probably will die this way yes.
I'm not a George, I knew that right off. But looking at it, I could flip it around.
Thomas: Good first name, easy nickname. Also, lapsed Catholic, being Thomas the Doubter tickled me. I would absolutely be like "Okay, Jesus, but you know I gotta see for myself." Would absolutely do my own thing and wander off to India. Also Aquainus. A+ name.
Henry: I feel for a guy, a middle name needs to be a grandpa name. (These are just my personal rules). A+ Grandpa name.
I wanted something Raven or Crow themed for my last name because goth as hell obv but also corvids are tricksters (Same) and goofballs (Same) but they will also be your friends if you make friends with them (same) but if you cross them, they will always remember your face and hassle you and tell all their friends (I have a long list of grudges and burned bridges). So I found this English surname that not a lot of people had and it sounded cool and the motto on one dubious family history site was "God feeds the ravens," which is my kind of bleak and funny. A+ motto, A+ surname.
Very happy with my decision, glad I did it, wish I'd thought of it sooner. I feel like my old name was something that was given to me but never really fit. Like when you buy a pair of shoes and, you know, they're fine and do okay. But then you put on a pair and they just *fit* like you had a cobbler make them custom and you didn't even know shoes could fit like that anymore.
Oh my god I love every word of this story. You picked a great name. I laughed out loud when you went into the Irish names and your father's attraction to all that. I'm mostly Irish abd the saints are well represented in the family tree but not the more Irish sounding ones like Erin or Shannon or Siobhan. My grandparents had a horror of being pegged so obviously Irish perhaps? This was realky wonderful to read. Congratulations on your journey and the name that was waiting for you.
I love this story and that picture of little you! My given name is Joan, but I have no idea why my parents chose it. But I'm pretty sure my dad was hoping for a boy and nicknamed me "Joey" which stuck in my family and friends circle. I still prefer to be called Joey.
I am now wondering if your Dad picked Joan so he could call you Joey more easily? They may not even know why, possibly. In any case, both names are great. Joan is a strong, beautiful "outside" name and Joey is the strong, playful, fun name that those you love know.
You know, that's one part of me that I never complained about—I always liked my name and nickname :-)
Your writing on the power of names -- so compelling. My parents went with a biblical name -- pretty awkward for an atheist later on -- and I think often about all the weight that comes with names when trying to figure out who you are.
Thank you, Leah. I know a family who used very biblical names for their sons even though they were never religious in any way. They just liked the names. It's interesting, isn't it ?
I don’t know the story of my own name, but I can’t imagine myself as anything other than Lisa (born in the late ‘70s, a kid of the ‘80s who still loves hanging out at the mall, who grew up in Southern California, who talks with a California accent to this day, totally a Lisa). My daughter’s name is Saoirse, which means independence/liberty in Irish (there’s three ways to pronounce it, depending on the part of Ireland/Northern Ireland; we use the most common: Seer-sha). My terrier is named after Seamus Heaney (a poet who was strongly connected to the earth).
How does a Southern CA Lisa find herself drawn to these beautiful Irish names? Are there Irish accents in your family as well as the SoCal accents? Or, is it your appreciation for the literary lights of Ireland?
There are some Irish accents in the mix 😊 My dad’s family is from Ireland. And yes, I do have a fondness if Irish literature and music.
The Namesake is a great book and I didn’t know they made a movie about it, so thank you for posting that. I’ll look for it on Hulu.
I have no idea why my mother picked Janice, but it went with my older brother’s name, Jim, and she wanted us both to have J names. I don’t think Janice was a popular name in 1960. She did make my middle name, Ann just like hers.
We named our daughter Catherine and she likes to be called Cat or Wren because she thinks Catherine is too formal. I gave her my grandmother’s maiden name, Mlay, so she would be reminded of her heritage on my side, which is all pure Czech. Most people think it is misspelled, missing a vowel. She reminds them that it is an Eastern European name. So it does make her connect in a weird way.
Love your dog. So cute.
I love all of this. I think Wren or Cat are both great nicknames and every time she tells someone the spelling of Mlay is correct, she is reminded of her name story. That's beautiful. (And Frida thanks you for the compliment).
I love that your mom kept her promise!
She's always been good that way.
My 1944 birth certificate shows the names Kevin Peter and in 2018 I found out, thanks to a DNA exchange, who my father was and that I had a half-brother nine years older than me named Peter Kevin. My mother was single and the man who made her pregnant (my father) was Irish and married for the second time. My maternal grandparents in Wembley looked after me and my nanna gave me the name Bobby, which became Bob when I was c.11 and started secondary school. It became Robert when I met my first wife and so it has been ever since. I had nicknames too - Dodo and Tubby - both of which went by the time I was eighteen. I never discussed my birth names or who my father was with my mother because I didn’t trust her to tell me the truth, nor did I ask my grandparents. I was who I was and got on with life. Still do. Discovering the name link with my half-brother I came to the view that she loved this man called Peter (yet a second name link). I have no regrets, never have. It was a good time to be illegitimate because a good few kids I knew at school and as mates also didn’t have dads, albeit thanks to World War Two. No one ever called me a bastard or treated me different when I was growing up. The other plus for me was that I escaped being raised as a Catholic and all the angst that seemed to go with it. My grandparents weren’t religious, so I chose to go a evangelical church Sunday School in Wembley with members from the USAF base at Northolt Aerodrome, so we got lots of treats (it was here I got the name Dodo. Tubby came later). The Church and I fell out over nuclear disarmament and at a young age, about 12, I came to the conclusion that any God worth the name would not condone or allow war or violence. It seemed a heavy price to pay for free will. Still does to the Humanist I am and, for the record, I am still a unilateralist. My belief in socialism has resulted in me being called a lot of names over the years, far too many to list here, suffice to say that I nave never been offended and one in particular, which has been said the most, ‘Bastard’, always brings a smile to my face because, of course, it is true. RH.
I'm struck by the name of the half brother you discovered. I wonder if your mother knew of this other son? Your story is full of wonderful observations and mysteries along with a sense of peace with all of it. Thank you so much for sharing this, Robert!
Hello again Elizabeth. To answer your question I’m sure my mother knew nothing of my father’s other family. In 1939, on the death of his wife from TB, he placed my half-brother into the care of nuns in Dublin. My half-brother was rescued by his maternal grandmother, who raised him until he went to Liverpool (England), aged 15, in search of work. As appears to be the case, or so it seems, quite often, our stories have similarities - as well as our own birth names, the names of our first and second wives, both our eldest granddaughters are called Laura, as well as a dead half-sister with yet another woman. Using the old 1-2-3 rule this is a collection of remarkable coincidences.I was 74 and he was 83 when we found out about one another and met for the first time. As you know I’m sure, many others have had similar tales to tell. Keep up the good work. Regards Robert. PS. If you have not done remarkable coincidences, I have a life full of them. Again, I know I’m not alone.
I hated my name growing up. It is a southern name (Texas/Oklahoma where my parents grew up) and I grew up in Southern California and I never met someone else with my name. As my parents tell the story, about the time that Shirley Temple was popular, there was a child about her age in Oklahoma that was a singer on the radio and I was named after her. I was always teased about my name in school, no one knew how to pronounce it. I guess this was before phonics. Anyway, my name grew on me and for my writing I write under my maiden name now.
I am glad you responded, Gayla. I've never heard your name before and wondered about it. There was a person in my school years back named Gay but not Gayla. Unfortunately her last name was Bottoms. I say unfortunately, but what do I know? She probably loved it and had fun with it. And she was a smart, lively person. I just had a juvenile mind and probably still do.
I went to school with someone that had the first name of Gay also. Although her last name wasn't as much of a potential ridicule problem as the person you mentioned, I don't remember it being a problem, or her being teased back then. I don't know that I knew what "gay" meant in the late 60's, early 70's. It wasn't until my young adult years that I realized what her first name could mean.
"Persephone" scootched in the middle there! :) Frida is lovely and her name seems to suit her perfectly. Love your story here-- and the pictures!
Yes it did scootch in there, Andria. I couldn't NOT use it. I can't wait for one of those moments when I call her and the whole entire name unspools. All those names feel so good to say.
My father wanted to name me Loretta after Loretta Young. My mother wanted to name me Margo after her mother Maggie. They settled on Sandra, never a nickname, and I'm fine with it. But at age 35, I changed my last name. (I had been married twice, always taking the husband's last name, I was ready for my own new name.) I named myself de Helen after my mother Helen, my favorite teacher Helen Berg, and my first employer Helen Houston. I believe my mother was named after Helen Houston as well. I've been Sandra de Helen longer than I had any other name. It's who I am.
My mother got my name from a television show while she was in the hospital. She didn’t like the spelling so she changed it.
It's a beautiful name. She chose well. Did you ever find out what she was watching?
Yes! Ryan’s Hope. People of a certain age always laugh at that.
No idea how my name came about. I was the third daughter in a little over three years and I think my parents were exhausted at changing the selected and hoped for boys' names to girls'. So I'm Judith Anne (I got that fancied up "e"). Judy to most all. My sister called me Judy Lamb, and I still do, sometimes, when I'm feeling sorry for myself. I've been married three times and took the man's name each time. First one: Boyd and I liked the way the ascenders and descenders of the "y"s and the "d"s looked when printed out Judy Boyd. I don't plan on marrying again and I don't plan on changing my name again.
Oh and PS speaking of cat's names, let us not forget about "The Naming of Cats" by T.S. Eliot.
https://poets.org/poem/naming-cats
No let's not forget "The Naming of Cats". I've taken both my husband's names too. I will die with the name i have now. Hopefully no time soon . Thank you for this, Judy!