Recently I came across a book on baby names, and while I didn't pore over it with the intensity of bygone days (when I needed it), it did make for interesting browsing. Familiar names often had obscure and surprising meanings and origins.
I got to thinking about my mother's rather formidable task of naming my ten brothers and sisters and me. I'm sure she didn't have access to books with thousands of names, but her selections reflected, however unconsciously, lofty ambitions and ideals, and even a slight predictability of what her offspring would be like.
Take the boys, for instance. (There were seven of them.) The first, Duane's eagerly awaited and much anticipated birth after three girls was heralded wildly. He was promptly labeled with several honorable names in the release of seven years' pent-up frustration of son-lessness. First, he was named Samuel (asked of God). Though she named him for my father, no doubt truer words were never uttered by our mother.
His second name was Austin, whether for friend, family, or place, I know not, but the meaning is "high or august, exalted." Certainly appropriate for a first-born son. Duane, the name by which he would be known throughout boyhood, was the one most indicative of his character. It means "of a poem or song." My best memories of our growing-up days were when he, thumbs hooked in jeans or overalls, recited long poems for school programs: Jest 'Fore Christmas, Casey at the Bat, or If. And he's never far from his guitar, strumming and picking ballads or Hank Williams and George Jones favorites.
My next brother, Earl, was also named after Daddy: Christopher. His dark hair and coloring were the same, unlike the first son's blondness. Christopher, of course, is self-explanatory. And my brother Earl is is the very embodiment of gentle strength. Beneath his rugged good looks is a strain of sweetness all too rare in men. (Of course it wasn't so evident when we were younger and having our battles!) We are next in age. Earl is his middle name, meaning nobleman or chief, not too shabby an ambition for a second son!
Robert Charles is my brother Bob's name. It sounds rather like a king of England, doesn't it? Robert means "shining fame." I'm not so sure about the fame part (though I always thought he and my oldest brother should have gone into show business with their side-splitting comedy routines,) but "shining" he is. A stickler for an immaculate appearance, you will never find Bobby looking less than dapper. (Nor his house, car or family, for that matter.) Charles means strong and manly, and though he inherited our grandfather's slight stature, he is sturdy and trim in mid-life. A quiet chuckle often breaks his serious demeanor to reveal his keen wit and sense of humor.
James Edward is a name plucked from royalty if ever there was one. Originally coming from Jacob, it means "founder of Israel." No small achievement, that! But he was just Jimmy to us, our determined and independent little brother. These same traits are in the business-like Jim of today. Edward means "prosperous guardian," aptly describing someone with his industrious persistence. "Early to bed and early to rise," was written for Jimmy. As children,we'd often find him in bed by 6:00 p.m., covers pulled up to his chin, even in the warmest weather.
Johnny, my second-youngest brother, carries the most used boy's name in the world. It is found in almost every language in nearly a hundred forms. Small wonder, as it means, "God is gracious," a sentiment no doubt echoed by countless mothers as they view their newborn. His middle name, Ray, is "the radiant, the king." And Johnny radiates: smiles, charm, friendliness. (Of course, he's a bit of a ham, too. He grins out of almost every page of the family photo album, hamming it up for the camera.)
In the Bible, the mother of James and John asked Jesus if her sons could have places of honor in heaven. Though I doubt my mother knew that "Jerry" means "exalted of the Lord," she nonetheless bestowed on her youngest son that name (unconsciously expressing an inborn desire?). At any rate, he was exalted around home, with all the coddling and cuddling of a youngest child. "Lloyd" means grey, nothing like the day he was born when I was almost nine: a puffy-cloud, blue-sky day of rain-soaked hills and valleys in the middle of the month of June.
We never knew if one small brother would have fulfilled the prophecies and hopes of his name. He died in childhood. But we did know that Roy Wayne filled his own special place in our family. From the time he was a chubby toddler, he endeared himself to us all with his funny ways, dreamy blue eyes and little-boy clumsiness. The name "Wayne" means wagon-maker. But "Roy" is another word for royalty, for like all babies, he was once a king.
Our family did have its feminine side, with the first child being born a girl. She had dark hair and dancing brown eyes. A first grandchild as well, she was the darling of all the families and carried quite a responsibility in her role as eldest child to us who were to follow. A good thing she was named Charlotte, a feminine counterpart of Charles, which means strong and manly. Thus, Charlotte is "the strong and womanly." She grew up to be both; her special position in the family giving her confidence, prestige, power and authority--the first two attributes helping her wield the other two.
My sister was known, however, by her middle name, Christine. Surely her most Christian quality is her generosity of spirit. Impulsive and rash she may be, but those traits are softened by a quickly penitent nature. Somehow she always reminded me of Scarlett O'Hara.
Mama and Daddy's second child was also a daughter, christened Frances Pauline. Did they know that Frances means free? There is no better word to describe my sister. Hers is truly a free spirit, refusing the molds and patterns set by someone else. Independent even in childhood, she would form her own friendships, make her own games, rule her own mountains. She would have to call upon these resources and hidden strengths often as the years passed.
Her middle name equally personifies her, though. She shares with her famous namesake, Paul, the zeal to establish churches and evangelize the world. The word "Paul" may may mean "little," but her dreams and aspirations are not.
My third sister's name is especially apt. None of us ever liked to get Lorene mad at us. (Her name means "famous warrior" and we learned to lay low when she was on the warpath), or "laurel," meaning "victorious," which meant she'd probably win. Her middle name, Laverne, means profit or gain. (She drives the hardest bargain you ever saw.) She is like the virtuous, thrifty wife spoken of in Proverbs 31 who sews, brings food from afar, knows value when she sees it and is praised by her husband. Needless to say, she is the envy of all her sisters.
The last name I'm going to write about is mine: Thelma June. Though long detested by me, I have finally come to terms with it. I think. I found out it is Greek, which seems to impart a certain dignity. And I always held a mental picture of a romantic-looking photograph Mama had at home of her sister, my Aunt Thelma, on her wedding day. She was truly a beautiful bride.
But the name's most saving grace for me, especially now, is that it means youthful or young. And I have enjoyed comments of friends and acquaintances throughout my adult life that I don't look my age. (Of course my sisters get the same compliments--a family blessing.) But I can't figure out how the meaning of my middle name, "June," applies to me: really, nursling? Oh well, at least it's Greek! For all of us, Thank you, Mama and Daddy! --Written in 1980.
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