Personal Narrative On When My Parents Were Hippies

A person’s name is their most important characteristic and is often comprised of hidden significance and centurial “hand-me-downs”. When I was assigned to research my name, I had never thought of the importance of the name my parents had given me. As a child, I always found it annoying when my peers turned to snicker at me each time our church’s music minister asked for the congregation to stand and sing “Amazing Grace.” Each time I heard the song “Mary Had a Little Lamb”, there was always someone near to ask, “Hey, where is your lamb?” After conducting research, though, I began to find little things that made me more appreciative of my name.

would associate my name with something they loved or even remembered fondly. My first name

I was not named after any other person. When I asked my dad and mom they said “We try to come up with a unique name that nobody else had”. My mom came up the name Adam and dad seemed to like it, so he added his middle name in there and it sounded like it fit. So, from there on I was Adam Joe Alexander. There was no disagreement when coming up with my name. The funny thing is, they said I had this name before I was even born, they named me Adam a little bit after they found out she was parget. My dad said “If I was a girl, I would have been named either Serra Jane or Brandy

I was named after my father’s confirmation instructor, Emma Langholt. According to Dad, it was because my parents liked the name and it was a pleasant coincidence that that was her name. My father went through six years of catechetical instruction with three teachers, before being confirmed, if I remember correctly. Whenever we see her (which, regrettably, is not often), it is always “She’s your namesake!” or “It’s the two Emma’s…” Namesakes in general are a tribute, like mine. Sometimes they are a pain… I am forever answering to people who do not want me.

My full name is Alyssa May Stanley. When my older sister was about a year old, my mom was rocking her to sleep when she saw a picture frame on the table beside. The brand name was written in the empty frame, “Alyssa”, in curly cursive letters. Ever Since then, she knew that her next daughter would be named Alyssa because of how beautiful it looked written like that and beautiful it sounded spelled like that. And that next daughter was me! The literal meaning of Alyssa is madness, derived from the the flower alyssum that is supposed to heal madness. Many sources said that anyone named Alyssa is logical, though the thought is just an assumption, there is no evidence backing that up.

I remember my mom telling me about why she named me Kiersten all because she didn’t like the name Kirsten. My full name is Kiersten Marie Mann. Kiersten means follower of Christ. Marie means-Many believe it to mean "sea of bitterness" or "sea of sorrow.” Mann means- a surname of Germanic Origin. My mom tells me all the time that if I came out as a boy they would've named me Harry like hairy man, but good thing I came out as a girl. I never liked my last name growing up because everyone would call me a man but no one does anymore, luckily. I don’t like my first name either, I always thought it didn’t fit in.

My mother said that she give me the middle name Leigh, because there was really no other name that went well with Bradie. If my dad had had it his way, I name would be Ludmila after

Today, I find a measure of comfort in the fact that my daughter was an organ donor. As the Grief Link article says, "It as an opportunity for something positive to come out of tragedy." My daughter cared about others and this caring continues after her

I used to dislike my name when I was younger, because people would always spell it wrong, and it was different than every other person with my name. But now that I’m older, I really like my name, for the reason I disliked it when I was younger. Being different is something that I like, I’m always trying to be different from other people for a reason I can’t explain, maybe it’s a desire for being different, but who knows. Even with people spelling it wrong, it only takes four seconds for me to tell someone “It’s R-Y, not R-I.”

My name comes from a flower. Not a Rose, not a Lily, but an Alyssum. An Alyssum flower, like me, is small, cute and is usually used to complement other, bigger flowers. Like the Alyssum flower, I have always been in the background, never really stood out in a crowd of bigger, more vibrant, flowers and am only recognized when being commented on how small and cute it is. The Alyssum flowers name comes from Greek origins meaning “sanity” and was formally thought to cure skin diseases. Going through my life and figuring out who I am has made me realize that I don’t have much of a firm grasp on my sanity as I thought I did when I was little, but that’s okay. When I asked my mom about why she chose my name, she simply

I do, in fact like my name because I believe it has a superb ring with my last name and it is always on keychains and other objects like that. But one thing I don't appreciate about my name is how common it is. I just recently learned that it is the commonest boy name in Texas and one of the most popular in the United States.

When I was born, my parents sat in the hospital room thinking of what my name could be. My mother’s heart was set on Hayley. My dad’s heart was set on Gabrielle. They argued on these names for what seemed like hours to the family waiting to know what to actually call me. Each family member had taken a side for a name, but nothing was decided yet. More arguing led to the final name, and it the decision that would certainly stick with me for the rest of my life. My name was Gabrielle. Some of the family members left the hospital thinking that would for sure be my name. Nothing was set in stone though.

My grandfather had developed lymphoma in May, It pressed against his lungs and gave him trouble with breathing. I hadn't dwelled on it or really considered it anything abnormal; cancer is normal now right? As we started the long drive back to Minnesota, my mother turned to use in tears. "guys, Grandpa doesn't have much longer." she said, "we are going to go see him before.." she trailed off. A wave of sadness swept

Every name comes from somewhere, whether it’s family history, just a randomly picked name in a baby book, or some other way. I got the honor of being named by my father. The story behind how he picked that name is pretty good to me but boring to others. He choose my name for a series of books by Karl Edward Wagner. The books are about a warrior by the name of Kane, by what I was told was left handed red hair and blue eyes. When I was growing up I had red hair blue eyes and when my father found out that I was left handed he giggled with joy. My name may not have come from family history or from a baby book, but to me it holds great meaning behind it.

I was given my great-grandmothers name simply because my mother thought it sounded pretty. How strange something that embodies my personality was chosen with so little thought. My great-grandmother was named in a similar way, her mother was traveling through a Pennsylvania Dutch community where she met someone with the name Arminda, and decided that was what she was going to name her daughter.