HOW I GOT MY NAME AND HOW IT HAS AFFECTED MY LIFE WRITING ASSIGNMENT #26
My mother named all her children after states. Once, as a young woman in her 20’s (before she met my father), my mother was challenged by a friend to a game of 100 Questions. Her first question was a stumper: “If you had to name a child after a state, which one would it be?” Well, my mama thought that was an absurd idea and couldn’t imagine using a state’s name as it was – unchanged. Finally, she picked “Dakota,” and her friend accepted it – even though she left off the North or South. I think her friend picked “Florida.” What kind of name is that? I mean, who would name a kid after an advertisement for beach front property -- for retirees?
Well, something happened in my mama’s head after that, and she became attached to the name Dakota –- said it over and over again in her mind and then said it out loud when I, her first child, was born a couple of years later. Somehow her accent and emphasis turned the second part of two states’ names into a beautiful name for a little girl. Dako-ta. Da-ko-ta. Da-ko-taa. I liked it from an early age. No middle name needed. It stood alone.
You’re probably wondering how she managed to name the rest. Well, after me, she decided to just use state names as they were: Delaware for my next sister and then Tennessee for my brother, and Georgia for the baby of the family. Delaware had that sing-song sound like my name did when Mama said it. However, Tennessee and Georgia just didn’t seem as poetic at first. But Mama was quick to point out the artistic heritage represented by those two great names in American history. “Two steadfast contributors to 20th century American culture,” as Mama put it had already been blessed with the same given names: Tennessee Williams and Georgia O’Keefe. As I grew up, I realized she was right.
After my youngest sister was born, Mama told us she wasn’t planning on having any more kids but if she and Dad did, she’d probably break tradition and name that one “Desire” –- after the street car, of course! What were you thinking? Dad was amused. At least, it’s a good thing Mama never named any of us after our home state of Alabama. She had thought ahead, said it sounded too much like country music. You know the group.
The funny thing is that our dad never said anything about our mother’s choice of names, her affinity for the fifty states –- or at least five of them (if you count North Dakota and South Dakota separately). I think he never complained because he liked to travel. And that is one of the special things about each of our names: they have already -- or will -- inspire cross-country road trips.
Our parents told each of us that in the summer after our tenth birthday (conveniently, we were all born in the spring), we would go to the state that was our namesake. See, in my case, it was a bonus, because we got to go to both North AND South Dakota. I fully appreciated the brevity of my name.
Two summers ago we all piled into our wood-panel station wagon and headed north. It’s a long drive –- from Alabama to South Dakota. When we finally got there, I loved it. I saw George Washington on Mount Rushmore, and we all had ice cream cones from Wall Drug. In North Dakota, we went to Fargo and later drove up to the Canadian border just to set our foot over the line. I have touched the earth in Manitoba –- or more precisely, pavement. Few southerners –- at least the ones I know -- have ever been that far north! All along, I felt kind of sorry for my parents, though -– having three little ones in tow, but we managed somehow.
In fact, although no one turned ten the next year, we took another trip -- out west. The summer trip is quickly becoming an annual family tradition. That year we visited Ghost Ranch, New Mexico –- for my baby sister Georgia. She was four by then. Is Ghost Ranch ever isolated and desolate?!? It didn’t even smell like anything. Actually, it smelled like nothing. But sometimes the air tasted like sand. It’s hard to believe that place inspired Georgia O’Keefe to paint, but then again she did do all those cow skulls in the desert. I prefer her brighter paintings –- like the print of a poppy that Mama and Dad put up on the wall in Georgia’s room when we got back home.
While we were out in New Mexico, we met diehard fans of Ghost Ranch –- couples who returned every year. I wondered why. They said it was “serene” and “meditative.” Mama and Dad explained what that meant, and I figured I could meditate just as well -– probably better -– in a place with a little humidity and greenery –- like at home in the backyard underneath the oak tree. Anyway, it’s amazing the way Georgia O’Keefe painted all those beautiful overlapping layers of petals in so many brilliant colors when she was surrounded by nothing but drab brown and off-shoot shades. Mama said Georgia O’Keefe was in touch with her “womanliness;” that was how Mama explained it. Georgia O’Keefe had the whole rainbow -- and all the hues in-between -- inside of her, it seems.
So, you see my parents really use our names as springboards for adventure and created “teachable” moments. Not only are we going to visit Delaware this summer (in the Lindleys’ yellow V.W. bus which my parents are swapping for our station wagon), but we’re also learning about the Delaware Indians. Mama and Dad take turns reading to us at night. We already learned about the Dakota Sioux before we took the trip up there. As far as I can tell, the Dakota, Lakota, and Nakota are pretty much the same, and the only difference is just in their language: When the Dakota say “D,” the Nakota say “N,” the Lakota -- “L." It’s a pronunciation thing.
You see, my parents always seize the opportunity to “expose us to literature,” as my dad puts it. We’ve listened to dad read us A Streetcar Named Desire, and we’ve listened to The Glass Menagerie book-on-tape on several road trips. But we all preferred the live performance of The Glass Menagerie at Spring Hill High School last winter. Inspired by the play, I tried to direct my own version at home, but the little kids weren’t much help!
Nonetheless, I am looking forward to going to Tennessee in a few years. I really want to go to Memphis and see where Elvis lived. Some people say he still lives there, but let’s face it: If he were alive, he’d be touring, and I don’t mean just making appearances in smoky Las Vegas casinos either.
Sometimes family friends mix up our names, but then I usually point out the girls’ names are in alphabetical, chronological order (Dakota, Delaware, Georgia). I tell them they just have to remember “Tennessee” is a boy’s name. Then people sometimes ask us if it’s hard to have names like ours, whether other kids make fun of us a lot. Not really. But sometimes grown-ups do try to sing “Georgia on my Mind” to our little sister, but that’s OK. I mean, it’s a good song. Other than that, we usually don’t get much trouble. I think it’s because we have a tall gene, and especially in middle school, no one wants to mess with a girl who’s 5-foot-8. Then again maybe it’s because we’re proud of our names – not because they’re names that were in the family for generations (‘cause they haven’t been) but because they’re names that connect us to our country and our family right now. Today and every summer.
Wow! Dakota, you have really used this week’s essay topic to write a lot about your life! I can tell that you really like your name. Although that’s a concept I can’t personally identify with, I’m happy for you. You are a very fortunate young lady. Have you shared this well-written essay with your parents yet? Please do! Mrs. Bottom A+
Inspirations for this short story: · The Navajo 2nd grader Dakota whom I knew at Low Mountain · My family’s summer road trips · My childhood best friend Mandy · My parents' roots & love of literature · Vagina Monologues (performance) · The Ya-Ya Sisterhood (book) · The voice-over in The Wonder Years · My late ex-boyfriend Josh · My Carleton class on Lakota religion · Our family friends & my brother's godparents the Olowins