History of Names
by
Tamora Whitney
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Names handed down
connect generations
but in my time, people are named for poetry, not history
Tamora, Tari, Sybil, Shawna, Sue
pretty names without a past.
My grandmother and I
walk through the cemetery.
She tells me the names on the tombstones:
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Sarah Nevada Wiltsey:
My great-great grandmother
named for her grandmother Sally,
was born in a covered wagon
crossing the Sierra Nevada mountains.
In the photo album she looks stern and somber
sitting in the fold-up rocking chair
that leans against my mother's living room wall now.
Matilda Jane Murphy:
I remember my great grandmother, Mom Murphy
named for her grandmother Matilda.
Mornings she would bring me sweet smooth oatmeal
and steaming strong Irish tea
when I spent the night with her
watching 'wrassling' on tv.
Ella Catherine Nicholas:
My great aunt Catherine
made wedding cakes for everyone
in the county and beyond;
her tractor found the only patch of ice
on the country road
and turned her over into a ditch.
She was named for her great grandmother
Catherine Jane Walters:
only thirteen when she married
more like a child herself,
she would play all day
in the fields with the children
and forget to start supper for her husband.
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As I drive my grandmother home,
I know I could never find that cemetery again,
or those headstones her flowers find so easily.
My children must be named for their history.
"Welcome Matilda, Sarah, Catherine,
Welcome to your past."
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