
Not surprisingly, I have disappointed the most influential woman in my life over the age of 32. Her name is Essie. She is my grandmother.
I say "not surprisingly" because, let's face it, I've disappointed her thousands of times over the course of my life, including, but certainly not limited to:
Kicking my sisters
Making under-arm fart noises when company came over
Making under-knee fart noises after being told not to make under-arm fart noises when company came over
The now infamous "I hate that umpire" meltdown I had during a little league game
Stealing that road sign and putting it in the back seat of my car...ripping the roof liner, then "hiding" it in my closet and trying to ignore the flashing orange light emitting underneath the doorway. Those signs are much bigger than they look at 60mph, by the way.
Moving to St. Louis instead of back to
Adel after seminary
You get the idea. Believe me there are others I could list. And it's not like she's hostile toward some of the ideas, like moving to St. Louis or going to seminary. It's just that she's not hidden the fact that her clear preference in those scenarios is for me and mine to be closer to her. She's been disappointed.
Like I said, it's not surprising that I've disappointed her. What is surprising this time though is that she is disappointed regarding one of her very own great-grand children...the newest one, no less. And it's not simply a matter of her just wanting to "see the little booger" more often that's caused the disappointment. Since she lives about a 1000 miles away, that's to be understood.
It's the name. She's very vocal that she doesn't like the name "Beckett."
"Where'd that come from?" she asks.
And asks.
And asks.
And the truth is, we really don't have a compelling answer. We don't have a "It was Melissa's grandfather's name," or "It's the name of my mentor and life coach," or "In Hebrew it means...". It actually doesn't mean anything particularly poignant in English. Best we can tell, it is probably related to "Bee keeper," and is sort of an occupational name, not unlike Smith or Fisher or something like that. No, the truth is, we just like the name Beckett...a lot, and that seems like it ought to count for something since we'll be using it...a lot.
But Essie, the woman who raised me like a mother since 6-years-old, the woman who despite all those previous disappointments still loves me with the kind of love only a mother can have, isn't keen on the name. And that actually means a lot to me, coming from a woman named "Essie." She seems to be saying, "Take it from me. Don't stick the kid with a name he'll never like."
But what she hasn't considered yet is that my whole life, from the time I was able to talk, I've called her "Essie." Not "Granny" or "Gramma" or "MeMa" or whatever other nicknames might be expected. I have called her, from pretty much day one, "Essie." And while it may not be the most popular name to name a kid, I've always loved it, and I call her that because that is SO who she is that no other name could ever possibly do. She is Essie. There is no other name worth considering.
I suspect when she sees this little booger, she'll feel similarly about Beckett.