What's in a Name?

 Poetry of Another Kind

I read obituaries.  I mean I read them every day, looking for people I might have known, or who were related to people I know. Most folks my age do. My husband, who lives next door in the nursing home, calls it the Irish Lottery and every day he calls me to tell me who won. I ask, “Who?” and he says, “Not you!”

I look for unusual names, interesting careers, fascinating hobbies—maybe because I write and like to hang around words, listening to them talk to each other. It’s a hobby, sort of.

Today I found an interesting name in the obits.  I didn’t know the woman who died, but I knew her sister.  And as soon as I saw her name I knew she was somebody special.  For one thing, this woman had several names, all with double letters.  I only have one name with double letters, my middle name, which is Lorraine. This woman had five double letters in three names: Merri Lillian Russell-Bussell!   In addition, she was born in Walla Walla!! Her mother, Delma Russell’s maiden name was McKeever.  There’s a couple of more.  And she has a sister, the one I knew, with three doubles, Kitty Russell Phillips. In one family that has to be some kind of record.

How many people do you know with more than one double letter name? For a long time I wondered how many people got the names they had.  I suspect it was the mother’s fault, because she’s in the hospital bed when the nurse comes around with the birth certificate needing to fill in some blanks. (Freud always blamed the mother). Why else would there have been two men in Bremerton whose last name was Storm, and their first names were North America and South America? I kid you not.  Look it up! Father Storm was probably passing out cigars and bragging about the new babies.  So what’s a mother to do? (Drum roll here).

I was knocked off my pins while working at a title company back in the day. I saw the name Isaac P. Hoopes  when I was searching land ownership. But as we sometimes did to fit names into small spaces one of the title searchers shortened his name to I.P. Hoopes.  (I get an instant visual from some of the names I’ve heard and read).

Now if you think this is a strange kind of hobby, you are probably right. But, hey: It keeps me busy and that makes my kids happy so what’s the harm!

Next post: Back to the poetry.