No, I'm talking about real name, names. Take my family for instance. I grew up in Michigan. Yankee enough, right? Yeah, except the town I grew up in had a huge influx of southerners trying to escape the drudgery and Black Lung that the coal mines so graciously bestowed upon it's workers in favor of working in the auto industry. This included my family. Both of my papaws worked the coal mines of West Virginia. West Virginia...oh, how I love thee, my dear, precious West Virginia... My dad retired from Ford. I still have a large amount of family whose livelihood is dependant on the survival of the auto industry. But we're not talking about that today. We're talking about names. So, anyway...I am a born and bred Michigander with southern blood running deep in veins. My heart has always been in the country, the south, the mountains. Indiana is the next best thing. So, I have always referred to myself as a Yank-a-billy. I can prove this with my family's name lineage.
Let's start with my dad's side of the family. His given name is Albert. Bunny trail...You could always tell where Dad knew the person from he was talking to by what they called him. They were work friends if he was Al. They were friends from around town or Mom's family if he was Ross (middle name), and it was his siblings calling if they asked for Buddy. Ok...So Dad's given name is Albert. His mom was Alberta. I spent a huge part of my growing up years thinking that he was named after her. Nope. What? Nope. He was named after a friend of his father's. His father was Van Buren, also his oldest brother's name. Here is a sampling of a few more of his 10 siblings. Lula Mae, Doranna, Lena Bell...Sharon. Sharon's not super southern but it's also my mom's name. Not much, but a little confusing. It gets much worse, though. Just wait.
Mom's side of the family is a real hoot. Her mom, Granny, used to tell about her cousins or somebody named Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee - Tucky and Tenny for short. Granny had a sister named Clayter. Aunt Clayter. Not pronounced awnt or ant - Ain't. Ain't Clayter. Ain't Clayter married a man named Homer and together they had a son named Garcy Charles. I'm not making this stuff up, people. One of Granny's brothers was named Ralph. She married my papaw whose name also happened to be Ralph. You following? Together, Papaw and Granny raised four children: June, Richard, Sharon, and Debbie (Deborah). That's not so bad, right? It skipped a generation and mutated slightly.
June married a man named Richard, also her brother's name. Both had only one son. They each named that only heir to the family name, none other than Richard as well. Now we have four Richards in our immediate little family. To keep the confusion down they are now referred to as; Bubby, Boo, Richard and Richie.
Debbie married a man named Jim. Their firstborn was a daughter. No Jim there. But Jamie is pretty close, right? Hallelujah, praise the Lord! Their second and last chitlin' was a man child to carry on the family name! Now we have Jim, Jimmy and Jamie. But it doesn't stop there...
Flash back to my senior year in high school with me, please. It's a Friday night. I'm getting ready to walk out the door for a night with my girlfriends. Mom has something important to tell me first. I think I'll do a separate post for the full story sometime. It's a doosy, too. The important news is the fact that I have an older brother. My dad has another child. He is named none other than...drum roll, please...Jim. His name is Jim. Dear God. Why couldn't it have been Cletus or Chester? Billy Bob? Pedro? Puxatawny Phil? Jim? We have another Jim in the family to add the Richard and Jim confusion? Yes. And don't forget that there are also now two Sharons and two Ralphs.
Fast forward to the day my baby sister meets her Romeo and falls in love for a lifetime of happily ever after... Thank God his name is Jon. I would have slapped her if she fell for a Jim or a Richard. When looking through the resumes of all my gentleman suitors, those names alone completely disqualified a person of the male gender from even being considered. Well, not really. But if I did have gentleman suitors and if they did fill out resumes, well then, they would have been disqualified if they had been named Jim or Richard. Or Ralph or Van Buren or Sharon, for that matter. Or Pam. I wouldn't consider dating a guy named Pam, either. Or a boy named Sue. Now that that's all clear... My sister's Mother-in-Law is named Pam. I'm still gonna slap her. :0)
My Knight in Shining Armor did come galloping into my life on his pallet jack and made me the queen of his castle. This knight is also a king 'cause in my reality you can be both. Just so you know. :0) His name is Chris. His father, the Emperor of Whatville was named Charles. His older brother is named Charles. Dear God, it's an epidemic. So when my Knight in Shining Armor/King of my castle and I birthed the only heir to our kingdom...we didn't name him Richard. Or Jim. Or Charles. Or Chris. Or even Ralph. Nope. We didn't name him any of those over-used family names. We named him something completely different. We named him Rastis. Rastis Ucrastis Moore.
One more thing. Rastis says that when he grows up and gets married and has children - they're all gonna live in our house and sleep in our bed. And he's going to name his first son Chris and his first daughter Pamela. And he's going to have 150 children. Jesus, help us now! And bless all the little Pygmies in Africa! Amen!
*Disclaimer: The previous story is true to the very last detail...except pertaining to the name Rastis. The name Rastis was used for dramatic effect. That and.....