![]() ![]() ![]() In the course of my life I have, instead, grown into my names, changed what they stood for (in part), tried on nicknames, and adopted a new name to share with the new family I helped to create. ![]() But, of course, I chose neither the names nor the meanings they carried. It’s a name most people never heard of, that brought a fair amount of teasing when I was young, and that I’ve been spelling and explaining most of my life.Īll three of the names given to me were given with loving deliberation and aspiration. My first name was taken from a close friend of my parents, with the hope I might develop some of his best qualities. On top of that, my middle name was my father’s first name, which was given alike to my brothers. Growing up on the same street as my father’s parents and the family of his older sister, I understood that my family name came with expectations of respectability, and that my behavior reflected on my extended family. Standing in a circle in front of the congregation in dark Sunday suits, they lifted me slightly up and down while my father pronounced the ritual prayer that named me, introduced me to the community, and petitioned for divine help and guidance for my life. When I was a few weeks old, I was rocked in a cradle formed of the right hands of my father, my grandfathers, a few uncles, and the bishop of our Mormon ward. by Sherman Alexie (New York: Hachette Book Group, 2016). ![]()
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