“There is all the poetry in the world in a name,” ~ H.D. Thoreau
When I first start studying with a child or a family, one of the first words we study to start learning about spelling is their name. It can be a first name or a last name or another name of their choosing. So far, I have yet to meet a name whose story I can’t tell. Just like people themselves, names have families and histories. And just like people, some of those families and histories are limited or boring or hidden, while others run vivid and deep.
There’s not much need for speculation about why my forebears would’ve had the name Cook: the first of them to take on that identifier would’ve prepared meals, sold cooked meats, or run some kind of place to eat. The final, silent <e> was added by my grandfather, Charlie Cooke, a century ago, in order to dissociate himself from his criminal deadbeat of a father, Harry, which I've written about before. Even common names' stories can have twists and turns.
I grew up in Los Angeles, a monolingual, white kid in a big, monolingual white family. Aside from one polyglot great-great, Grandpa Sam, there was really nothing but English on either side of my family for generations. A little Yiddish here and there, but nothing to get verklempt about. I envied my friends who spoke other languages, or whose parents did. In my high school class, there was Farsi and Danish and Ukranian and Italian and Armenian, and, of course, Spanish, from every Spanish-speaking country you could imagine.
One such friend, Annie, came from such a family, a big tossed salad of his-hers-and-theirs. Both parents were attorneys. The American mom was the first person who ever made me conscious of the word feminist, and she was a mama to me in many ways that make me well up now. The Chilean dad's accent made me ask him to slow down a lot when he spoke to me, which seemed to make him sigh. Both parents had been married before, so Annie and her brother, Ben, had American and Chilean half-siblings. Annie’s mom I knew well, but her dad is one of those figures in my late adolescence who takes shape more through the stories that other people have told me about him than through my own, limited experiences with him. They’re both gone now but also totally still around.
I lived most of my adult life in the Midwest, but since moving back out west in 2017, I've reconnected with a number of childhood friends in California, not least Annie. We've stayed in touch, but the last several years have brought visits and holiday gatherings and birthday parties in person. Her family was a big part of my growing up, and while her parents are gone now, being around her and her siblings again has felt like home – so much so, in fact, that her brother Ben is now a regular (and sweet and charming) visitor to my Prescott home. They are a family of storytellers, especially on the Chilean side, so when I spend time with Annie and/or Ben, I hear their family stories.
It is a remarkable thing to love a whole family that is not yours for four decades.
Earlier this year, I was staying at Annie's and managed to flood her basement, like any good houseguest would do. She couldn't have been more gracious about it. As we were sopping up the mess, I noticed a painting hanging down there and asked about it. It was a paternal ancestor, which got me asking questions about her family name. It is also, of course, Ben's family name, and I've asked him similar questions. It's a melodic name, not common – you've probably never heard it before – and their dad had told a few stories about it, in his inimitable way, that his kids are now passing on to me.
I decided to have a look, and I loved the research so much that I'm thinking that I'd like to start offering this as a service: I'll research and tell the story of anyone's name, first or last. Not just the obvious stuff you can find online, but a linguistic and narrative mash-up that's unique to a specific person's experience and information. Holler if you're interested – I think it could make a beautiful wedding gift or family tribute.
Anyhow, here's what I wrote up for Annie and Ben about their family name, edited for a broader audience: