My late father had no middle name. His father apparently got sidetracked at the pub in Scotland on the way to register the birth and forgot what middle name was agreed upon. So my father had no middle name!
(I love that story actually!)
We all hate each other.
My grandfather, who is 70, remarried someone 20+ years younger than him around the time I was born. She had two children, who are 29 and would be 31 this year, which he adopted. As a result, I have a grandmother who is still in her forties, and an aunt who is only four years older than me. I also have an aunt by blood (we are extremely close), who is only in her thirties, who married a guy my age, so I have an uncle my own age. My grandparents are much more like my parents than grandparents, and my aunts and uncle are much more like my brothers and sisters than aunts and uncle. I am for the most part an only child, but have always felt like I had siblings.
My mother, meanwhile, married four times… when I was in infant, when I was two, when I was seven, and when I was ten, respectively. Because she switched partners so many times I lived in 13 different towns before I hit the fourth grade (therefore I say ‘‘mostly’’ an only child… I’ve had stepsiblings off and on throughout childhood.) The fourth time she married, she married my other grandmother’s 2nd husband’s stepson, which means, of course, that she married her stepbrother. Now that they are divorced, he’s still a part of our family, which really sucks.
My Mom gave birth to me at eighteen years old over spring break at college. She did not miss a single day of class while pregnant with me or after giving birth. I was seven years old when she graduated with her bachelor of science in mechanical engineering. Watching her go through school as a single parent had a tremendous impact on me and my view of education as a child. She was a mechanical engineer for a while, but she didn’t think the sexism was worth it and left after a couple years (I also remember those years… between age 7 and 9, I got bought practically anything I wanted. All other years we were poor.) She now works 3rd shift on a factory line and is sleeping on some guy’s couch. She is engaged for the 5th time.
Birth family? Well, my birth mother was 12 when she became pregnant with me, 13 when she delivered. That’s about all I know.
The following is something of a family myth.
In 1945, my paternal grandfather was serving in the South Pacific. A short time after V-J Day, he went AWOL, made his way to Europe, and joined a Haganah ship smuggling refugees and/or weapons into Palestine. His ship was torpedoed by the British Navy, but he survived, evaded capture and made it ashore. He then “hitchhiked” on various U.S. military aircraft all the way back to his unit in the Philippines, where he found out that the ship he was supposed to be on had hit a mine and had gone down with all hands. As no record existed of him going AWOL, he made up some story and was discharged - honorably - soon after.
My grandfather, who was not a joking man, told this story to my father once, a few years before his death from a heart attack at age 64. My dad has tried to verify it for years, to no avail.
After my parents divorced, we all stayed with my dad despite the fact that my two older brothers were actually his step-sons. I have two sisters and two brothers, but I’m my dad’s only biological child. My brothers still call him every week and refer to him as their father, though they still know their other father and also keep in touch with him. They have a brother and sister that I don’t from their father’s side, as well.
The great-grand aunt that I was (partially) named after never had children of her own. She worked in the pediatric ward of a hospital as a nurse for years and years. When her sister had children, and wanted to run around the country with her various lovers instead of staying home with them, my great-grand aunt took the kids in and raised them as her own. They all called her “mama.” When my maternal grandmother had 3 daughters, she followed in her mother’s footsteps and chose men over her children – leaving them with “mama.” They all called my great-grand aunt “grandma” and so, even though she was my great-grand aunt, she was always Grandma <lastname> to me and my siblings. I always have to remember that “great-grand aunt” part when I talk about her, because she always was and always will be “grandma” to me – I never met my maternal grandparents at all.
My maternal grandfather installed the telephone system in the USS Shenandoah.
He and his wife had 3 girls. During the depression, the family occasionally babysat for the neighbors…one day the neighbor family suddenly moved away, leaving no forwarding address, and their son, Harold. My grandparents raised Harold as one of their own without any fuss, muss, or official adoption papers. He’s always been beloved Uncle Harold to the family, and as far as I know, no one ever treated him as an outsider.
I can’t out-weird most of you, but I’ll try.
My birthday is on November 1st. (My mother had to stop taking my siblings trick or treating because she went into labor.)
A friend’s son, Jade, was born a month before 11/1 last year. My niece and her husband, Jayd, were due to have their baby on the 1st. He was born on the 3rd. His name is Gavin. Last year I met a baby boy named Gavin who was born on the 2nd. A woman at work gave birth to a boy on the 1st. His father’s name is Gavin. Another boy, Dean, was born on Thanksgiving. My brother, whose middle name is Dean, was born on Thanksgiving.
I was born on All Saints Day.
My sister was born on Easter.
My father (whose middle name is Dean) was born on May Day.
My great grandmother was born on Christmas.
When we were young, my brother asked what we should call her. Grandma? Great Grandma? Grandma Ellen? “Oh, just Grandma”, she said. And we did. From that point on we called her Just Grandma.
Apparently she and Just Grandpa didn’t speak to each other for over 20 years.
I guess this is weird-lite:
My grandmother and her sister are 3 years apart; they had a younger brother 12 years younger than my grandmother.
My younger sister and I are 3 years apart and I am 12 years older than our brother.
As a result of this pattern, my mother was afraid that she would die when she was 36, the same age at which my great-grandmother died. But she didn’t, to everyone’s relief.
My great-grandfather, Bert, long deceased, my aunt’s husband, Tex, and I all share the same birthdate: August 19th.
There is a prized family photo of a birthday party that took place at Grandma’s house on August 19, 1971, at which Tex was 19, Bert was 70, and I was 1.
My mom’s maiden name is Hooker (don’t haxxor my bank account!)
And I love to tell people, “Yeah I come from a long line of Hookers. My mom was a Hooker, my aunts were Hookers and my gramma still is a Hooker”. And I shit you not, more often than not I get looks of complete shock from people. Yeah people. My family’s made up of prostitutes.
At least one man on my dad’s side of the family fought in some war going back to the Civil War. Until my brothers pussied out and wouldn’t join the military. Thanks for breaking the chain guys!
When I was young, my younger brothers couldn’t pronounce my name. So till they were about ten years old, they called me Girl.
My paternal grandmother was born on Thomas Jefferson’s birthday, April 13.
My mom was born on Abraham Lincoln’s birthday, February 12.
My dad was born on Andrew Jackson’s birthday, March 15.
And I was born on George Washington’s birthday, February 22.
Not only all American Presidents, but all are featured on American currency.
Total hijack:
Years ago I was friends with a girl from work. Her last name is Ho. One day her little sister came into town, and I was going to meet them. A little earlier, I saw someone who looked very much like her, and I wondered if that might be the sister. I took a bit of effort not to say “Are you a Ho? Because you really look like a Ho. And I’m looking for a couple of Hos.” Turns out she wasn’t the sister, but her last name was, in fact, Ho.
What’s funny is that we had another coworker/friend, whose first name was Ha.
I have a cousin who is five months older than me, who is also my aunt. She was born when her mother, biologically my aunt (my father’s sister) was only 15, so her mother (our grandmother) adopted her. Therefore, she is biologically my cousin, but legally my aunt.
Parents are Harry & Gerrie, who spawned Sherry, Terry, Larry, and… Peggy-Sue.
My father was a career drinker, whose misogyny and francophobic tendencies grew each day with the evening shadows, until, by nightfall, he would rant at length about how all women were whores and that if we weren’t prepared to engage in a literal shooting war with the goddamned frogs, English speakers were going to become an underclass in our own country.
On some level I am sorry that he didn’t live to learn that (as the only one of his children who has or ever will pass on his family name) I took a Québecoise for a wife and plan to relocate our family to la belle province. Not much, though.
My uncle was the radio operator on Byrd’s plane when he flew over the pole.
My grandfather owned and ran a motel on the beach in Destin from the early 70’s all the way through the 80’s. Being Polish, his last name was difficult for most customers to pronounce, so early on he started telling everyone his last name was Murphy. His first name? Eddie. He ended up getting a LOT of Buckwheat jokes.
Before my parents were married, my father’s father had died and my mother’s mother had died. Then, around the same year I was born, my father’s mother married my mother’s father, making my parents step-siblings, in addition to spouses.
My brother and I were both conceived on New Year’s Eve, 3 years apart. I just missed being born on my brother’s birthday by an hour and twenty minutes. And between the two of us and some of our cousins, we have birthdays Sept. 29, 30, October 1, 2, 3 and 4 . . . all in different years.
And neither of my parents, nor my brother, nor I have a middle name.
I used to work with a woman whose maiden name was “Ready.” She always said that she was born Ready, and was Ready up until her marriage, when she stopped being Ready.