What's in a Name

Marian--
It's a gorgeous fall afternoon and we're sitting on the sidewalk at the top of the street stealing wireless internet from a manicure/pedicure shop. You've been a tad fussier than usual after your four month check-up yesterday (two shots that you handled like a pro) and the only thing that seems to make you feel better is being naked or going outside for a walk. Imagine the joys of walking naked...

At any rate, I had some business to attend to and since we don't have a wireless connection at home I had to go hunting for one. Thank goodness for unsecured networks. Of course, the whole world will be wired by the time you're ready to get online and this hunting for wireless will be as passe as gathering nuts and berries for supper. Of course, if it was up to your dad, we would be out gathering nuts and berries for supper.

I haven't picked up on your birth story again; I read what I have written the other day and it already seemed like something that happened years ago. I was relieved that I could mentally pick up where I left off with the story. There are no major chunks of memory missing so I'll get around to it again soon. But while I was doing that I realized that we'd never explained the etymology of your name.

You are Marian Katherine Ard Waller

Your birth certificate is currently sporting a hyphen between Ard and Waller. We are getting that fixed as Ard-Waller sounds a bit like HogWallow and we are not mean enough to wish that on you.

Marian was the name of my great, grand aunt, Marian Hine (that's your great-grandmother's aunt) that lived in Atlanta until I went to college and she went to live with relatives in Alabama. Almost every week of my growing-up years she took our family out to eat on Friday night, and then when Friday started to interfere with my evolving social life, we switched to post-church brunch on Sundays. I can still remember the smell of her--a combination of hair spray and Listerene. Aunt Manie, that was our name for her, had a spirit of generosity that I've never found matched in another person. After living through the death of her daughter (also Marian) and her husband and a terrible accident that left her son who was in medical school with the cognitive abilities of a young child, she found her way to joy and peace. Instead of harboring animosity at a world that had most certainly dealt her a raw hand, she only seemed to grow in her capacity to love.

You and I share her name, my parents named me Amy Marian, probably with the hope that I would resemble her in some way. In naming you Marian I hope to honor her and to challenge myself to raise you well. Calling you Marian is a reminder that living at peace in this world, with grace and hope and abundant love, is a choice we make daily. Aunt Manie made the choice to live with a joyful spirit when it would have been easy to go the other way. I hope we can both take a page from her book.

You are ready to walk now. We'll continue the story of your name another day.