None of Us Liked Our Nicknames

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All the males in my family changed their names. That is, everyone had a nickname and none of us liked the ones we were given. So:  My father, known as Buddy, until he went to college, became John, which matched his birth certificate.. In the next generation, Burr (short for Burgess, his middle name) became Joe which is of course the common nickname for Joseph, his first given name. Jay became John (I don’t know why Jay didn’t suit him). I moved from Teddy (hated being called a Teddy Bear) and became Ed (which you know as “Mr. Ed” on this site. Much better than Teddy, don’t you think – especially since it goes so well with my picture.) Willie (short for William, of course), became Bill. He simply announced one day he wanted all of us to call him Bill.  No one questioned his decision, and from that day on, he was Bill. Years later, he said he had no idea that Bill was a common nickname for William. There was simply another boy down the block named Bill, and Willie thought he was cool, so he would be Bill as well.

 

I’m not sure what my parents would do if they had it to do all over again. … and my mother said all she wanted was one girl.

What’s My Name?

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My birth certificate name is "Jonathan David", relatively common among English-speaking Ashkenazi Jews, and prevalent among sons in my father's ancestral line, anecdotally descending from a 19th century Vilnian rabbi of blessed memory, named, via transliteration, Nosson Dovid.
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Three Noahs

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Noah R,  Noah G,  and Noah L

Three Noahs

As you may know it’s traditional in Jewish families to give children the names or initials of loved-ones who have died.   And so when we were expectant parents we planned to name the baby after my late father-in-law whose name was Naftali.

My woman’s intuition told me we’d have a girl,  and the name we chose for her was Nina.   And on the improbable – or so I thought –  chance we’d have a boy,  we held the name Noah in abeyance.

Then – so much for my mother wit and my woman’s intuition – we had a boy,  and so Noah it was!   (See  My Brown-Eyed Girl)

We thought it a wonderful name for our son and a bit unusual,  but when he started kindergarten we discovered there were two other Noahs in the class.   Their teacher,  In order to distinguish among the three,  taught them to use their last initials,  and so henceforth they were known as Noah R,   Noah G,   and Noah L.

On Mother’s Day that year I got a lovely card that I proudly taped to the fridge.   My kindergartner had drawn a big red heart and beneath it were the words  –  LOVE,  NOAH  L

– Dana Susan Lehrman

Grandma’s Fan

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Belle Potocsky Beckenstein was married in Bialystock, Lithuania (part of Imperial Russia) in 1902. She was quite lovely, though I have no photos of her from that exact date. I do have the fan she carried at her wedding. She brought it with her when she, my grandfather Samuel and their two small children fled their home after the 1906 pogroms I described in My Grandparents’ Story .

My mother (not yet born) was always proud that they came over second class, not steerage. As a result, they were able to bring several treasures that are now in my possession, like her mother’s candle sticks, in the photo below. After arriving on Ellis Island, Grandpa shortened the family name to Stein, adopting the “B” from the former name as the middle initial for himself and his children.

Belle and her two oldest children, Anna and Joe

Grandma’s candle sticks

The fan has survived these 120 years more or less intact. My Aunt Ann (the small girl in the above photo) gave me the fan on my wedding day. I brought it to my wedding, 48 years ago, but didn’t carry it. I carried my confirmation bible (which has my name imprinted in gold letters), an intricate lace handkerchief (also a gift from my aunt) and of course, my floral bouquet.

The feathers fluff at the stems and there is some sort of sparkle adhering to them that is barely visible. I’m sure it was quite elegant in it’s day. You can see in the photo that some of the feathers are partially broken on the edges.

When my Aunt Ann’s great granddaughter was married in 2003, I brought the fan to her so she could be photographed with it, as I was on my wedding day. It seems fragile, yet somehow, also sturdy, carrying the dreams of the immigrant generation along with precious memories of my dear, long-gone grandmother.

 

Middle Child Syndrome

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My answer surprised even me: "I am here because I am a middle child I will now longer be quiet - tonight I will speak up." (I am in fact a middle child three times over; 4th that of 7, 3rd of four and 2nd of three and so it was definitely time to speak up.) And I did.
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