Favorite Name
I don’t have unusual names on my family tree. Nothing I
could use in a search box to help distinguish from other names. I have George,
Philip, Mary, Marie, Maria, Robert, Richard, Sharon, Angela, Angie, Angeline,
Dorothy, Henry. I’m the only Gayle on the whole tree. Of course, it’s not
spelled like everyone else. I usually get Gail or Gale written on my coffee cup
order. No matter, it doesn’t bother me like it did when I was younger. Back
then, I didn’t even like my name. I would fantasize a different name like…Amanda.
Then I’d have a nickname like Mandy.
Looking through my RootsMagic database, I kept
coming back to the name, George. It’s my father, brother and maternal
great-grandfather’s name. No difference in spelling. Dad would sometimes
shorten it as Geo. That’s the well-known abbreviation of George. I always liked
the name for a boy or man.
I also like the name Jennie. It sounds old, but not ancient
old. It was my maternal grandmother’s given name. Growing up we always called
her grandma Jean. I didn’t know her real name until someone referred to her as
Jennie. When she passed away, we all found out her middle name, Sylvia. My
mother and aunt both claimed them never of it. Grandma is the only Jennie on my
tree.
In 1978, my husband, David and I named our first born child,
Jennifer. Her name is unique. She’s not named after anyone in particular. No
other Jennifer on either side of her family tree. We had a hard time picking a girl’s
name. At the time, we lived in a mobile home. I would shout different names down
the long hallway to see how they sounded and if we liked them.
When Jennifer was in kindergarten, my husband David and I went to
our first parent-teacher conference. While waiting for the teacher to get
Jennifer’s file, we strolled around the room admiring all the student crayon
drawings that were displayed along the top of the chalkboard. We were shown which one was Jennifer’s. When I saw she wrote her name as “Jennie,” I stopped
and stood there with my mouth open, gaping . Seeing my grandma’s name written by
my little girl left me dumb-struck, unable to speak. I guess I expected she
would spelling it J-e-n-n-y. I couldn’t
get over she had chosen to spell it J-e-n-n-i-e without me telling her about
her great-grandma. I felt like my grandma had reached down and squeezed my shoulder,
giving her approval. I think I smiled
all the way through the parent-teacher conference, and give Jennifer a special hug
when we got home.
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