What's in a name?
For my lit class this semester I had to write a paragraph about my name. I felt like posting it here, so, enjoy!
My name is spelled incorrectly according to most people. My mother didn’t know that Rebbecca was normally spelt with one “b,” and so she unknowingly destined me to have a life long struggle with just exactly how my first name is spelt. The name itself has no real significance; my parents picked it because it is a Biblical name and they are both devout Christians. My middle name is what has the most character about it. Jean. My mother told me she gave me Jean as a middle name after my Great Aunt Jean. I always figured this meant my mother thought fondly of Aunt Jean, but I have learned in recent years that she sees our aunt as somewhat stubborn and selfish. Aunt Jean must have enjoyed having her name given to me. My father told me that when I was young I too was quite stubborn and selfish. Aunt Jean used to watch me with a special gleam in her eye and delightedly refer to me as “that wicked, wicked child.” Apparently Aunt Jean was never very fond of children, but she loved telling my parents to control “that wicked, wicked child.”
My name is spelled incorrectly according to most people. My mother didn’t know that Rebbecca was normally spelt with one “b,” and so she unknowingly destined me to have a life long struggle with just exactly how my first name is spelt. The name itself has no real significance; my parents picked it because it is a Biblical name and they are both devout Christians. My middle name is what has the most character about it. Jean. My mother told me she gave me Jean as a middle name after my Great Aunt Jean. I always figured this meant my mother thought fondly of Aunt Jean, but I have learned in recent years that she sees our aunt as somewhat stubborn and selfish. Aunt Jean must have enjoyed having her name given to me. My father told me that when I was young I too was quite stubborn and selfish. Aunt Jean used to watch me with a special gleam in her eye and delightedly refer to me as “that wicked, wicked child.” Apparently Aunt Jean was never very fond of children, but she loved telling my parents to control “that wicked, wicked child.”