Anyone from a large family knows that the chance of their parents calling them by their correct name is remote, and my folks did not even try. Instead, they made general, at-large comments, assuming we would know who they were directed to. It did not take a rocket scientist to understand that “No, you cannot have the car tonight” and “No-no, don’t put those nasty peas up your nose,” were directed at different kids at different developmental stages.Our extended family is even larger, and rife with the confusion that occurs when dozens of people share the same 4 or 5 names. Whether this is due to a commitment to tradition or a singular lack of imagination is open for discussion, but I have my opinion.
The trend goes back generations; it’s a good thing my dad’s family were not around in biblical times because the genealogy would be tedious beyond words: “And John begat Jack who begat John who begat Jack…” Where is a Jehosophat or a Uzziah when you need one? To further muddy the waters, when aunts and uncles had no sons, they simply begat female Johnnies and Jackies; since young,male Johns and Jacks were also called Johnnie and Jackie, adolescent identity crises were the norm.
On Mom’s side, the names of choice were Rose and Frank, with “Frank” being curiously gender-neutral, as in the case of Great-aunt Frank, as fearsome a harpy as ever lived. There are also numerous Anna’s and multiple Jim’s; a name shared by my brother, grandfather, brother-in-law, multiple cousins and uncles and a Golden Retriever.
The trend of utilizing popular names multiple times continues in my generation. My middle sister somehow managed, over the course of 20 years, to marry three men named Michael, referred to, obviously, as Michael # 1, Michael # 2 and Michael # 3. This was quite clever since it ensured that she never called any of her husbands by the wrong name. These three Michaels are in addition to multiple nephews also named Michael.
The challenge is to keep everyone straight and we have devised unimaginative ways to tell kinfolk apart. Brother Chris and his son Chris are, of course, Big Chris and Little Chris, but when Little Michael married a girl named Chris we were bewildered. Thankfully, she quickly had a baby, (Jordan,) and thus became Mama Chris while her son Jordan (Baby Jordan) joined his cousins: Jordan the Bad and Jordan-the-Worse.
My brother Jack married the first — and for 30 years, the only — Melissa in our family, but then Little Chris went and married another Melissa (mother of one of the Jordan the Worse’s) at which point they became, cruelly, “Old Melissa” and “Young Melissa.” But when Old Melissa died and New Melissa initiated a nasty family feud they morphed into “ Melissa, God rest her soul” and “The Bitch.”
Here we go again: My nephew Big John, grandson of John and great-great grandson of John and John, and second cousin to more Johns and Jacks than I can count, is expecting his first child. Since Big John (which refers to his girth, not his age) is the son of Big Jack (which refers to his age, not his girth) and is expecting a boy, I tremble to think of the addition of another John (or is it Jack this generation?) to the family tree. Perhaps he would consider Jehosophat or Uzziah?
