Well, okay, not my name, exactly, but who I am named for. It should come to no surprise to anyone that my full first name is Daniel. When I was born, it was kind of a big deal for my mom's side of the family that I have a Biblical name, and so I was named after a prophet who moonlighted as an animal tamer. No biggie, right? Happens all the time.
Except my Dad's family got angry. Coming from a tradition where it was understood that male children were named for their fathers or, in extreme cases, their uncles, the fact that I had a family name apparently screwed everything up. (It was pretty telling when I put together my genogram for class... Roberts and James' all over the place, but nary a Dan to be found.)
I, of course, never worried about this, and my Dad's side of the family eventually got over it. After all, you can't be an Irish family and get TOO angry about having a Danny Boy around. I didn't even find out about the "controversy" until a few years ago, when Dad and I were going over some family history.
Where it gets weird is my aunt. She is the member of the family who is huge into genealogies, and has been tracing our family tree further and further back. One day she called up my Dad with some big news; She discovered that when my family first arrived in the states, there were not two brothers, Robert and James, as we all had assumed. There was actually a third brother as well. No one seems to know what happened to him... Robert went into business and became pretty darn successful, and James was instrumental in several big construction projects in New York.
Brother number 3 stepped off of that boat and the history pages at the same time. All we knew was his name: Daniel.
My aunt was excited. Like, really excited. Best news she'd heard in years. Not only did she find a new project, someone to try to track down and learn more about, since his name was Daniel, MY NAME WAS NOW OKAY. I wasn't named after a Biblical character, or something like that, no, I was a resurrection of a family tradition, bringing back a name that was part of our lineage and could now proudly stand there again!
Uh huh.
Except my Dad's family got angry. Coming from a tradition where it was understood that male children were named for their fathers or, in extreme cases, their uncles, the fact that I had a family name apparently screwed everything up. (It was pretty telling when I put together my genogram for class... Roberts and James' all over the place, but nary a Dan to be found.)
I, of course, never worried about this, and my Dad's side of the family eventually got over it. After all, you can't be an Irish family and get TOO angry about having a Danny Boy around. I didn't even find out about the "controversy" until a few years ago, when Dad and I were going over some family history.
Where it gets weird is my aunt. She is the member of the family who is huge into genealogies, and has been tracing our family tree further and further back. One day she called up my Dad with some big news; She discovered that when my family first arrived in the states, there were not two brothers, Robert and James, as we all had assumed. There was actually a third brother as well. No one seems to know what happened to him... Robert went into business and became pretty darn successful, and James was instrumental in several big construction projects in New York.
Brother number 3 stepped off of that boat and the history pages at the same time. All we knew was his name: Daniel.
My aunt was excited. Like, really excited. Best news she'd heard in years. Not only did she find a new project, someone to try to track down and learn more about, since his name was Daniel, MY NAME WAS NOW OKAY. I wasn't named after a Biblical character, or something like that, no, I was a resurrection of a family tradition, bringing back a name that was part of our lineage and could now proudly stand there again!
Uh huh.
Eschew Verbosity
My name has been retconned.
- 30/11/2011 03:40:28 PM
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