What’s in a name, part 1

Well, I guess this could be on the about page…but it’s not.  It’s in this post cuz that’s how I roll…lol.

I just felt there was a personal element missing from this blog…Me! So I wanted to share a bit of myself with you just because.

As my about section will tell you, or even the header of this blog, my name is Lindsey.  I suppose it’s a common enough name, but I love it all the same… I mean, if you can’t love your name, who will?  Anyway, mostly my name is interesting because of who I’m named after.

Generally I think of Lindsey as a girl’s name, especially in this day and age, but I’m not named Lindsey because it’s a girl’s name…I’m named Lindsey because my dad’s paternal grandfather was named Lindsey.

I thought, “Oh, how sweet! I’m named after my great-grandfather.” Ha.  Yeah, it’s sweet I suppose, but it’s also not sweet.  In true 80’s fashion, my mother was going to name me Ashley.  Ashley Nicole.  How generic and boring.  In fact, I knew several Ashley Nicoles growing up.  When the time was near for me to be born, my mom asked my dad on a whim what his grandparents’ names were…to refresh her memory.   He reminded her that his grandpa’s name was Lindsey, and she thought that was a perfect name for me!

For many years, what they both failed to mention to me in the telling of this story what that my grandpa was an alcoholic coal miner.  Great parents! What a legacy to carry on.  Insist that I know that I was named after my great-grandfather, but neglect to tell the most interesting part of the story.

I’ve been obsessed with coal miners ever since seeing October Sky in 7th grade, and my obsession was revived this past year as I read The Hunger Games.  There’s something depressing about a coal miner, yet appealing in a deeply tragic way.  I don’t know how to precisely explain it, but I find them fascinating.  And perhaps the reason I’ve always been fascinated is because I have it in my blood.   I guess I did know that my great-grandmother was a coal miner’s daughter, and reading or watching things on coal miners helps me feel a part of that heritage, however bleak.  I guess at the end of the day, we all want to feel connected to our roots.  It helps us see who we are when we know where we came from…more on that later, I’m sure.

Perhaps in the next post I’ll expound another fabulous story from my upbringing…



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