My parents were big on tradition and
naming their children after family members. Some of us more than others. I’m not so convinced some of us were
especially “named after” someone or if my mother simply liked the name and
referred to the person in the family who shared the name as inspiration for it.
I don’t think my father really had much to do with the process, quite honestly.
Dad was pretty laid back and mild mannered and as long as he didn’t hate the
name, I think the final decision was up to my mother.
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The Horner Children 1966 |
My brother, Charles Merritt Horner
(born April 18, 1952) was definitely in honor of my Dad’s father, Merritt
Horner. Grandad was a cool guy. And he was very fond of my mother. But who was
Charles? My mother, when asked, said it was for her brother in law, Charles
Burleigh Wellington, who was married to her sister, Jean. But he was always
called Burleigh, so I think this was one of those instances where my mother
felt she needed to justify why she chose Charles. My brother was called Chuckie
for the first part of his life (and as of this writing, still sometimes is by
my Aunt Jean, who is 90 years old). Later on as he got older he went by Chuck.
But Merritt was a name he was proud of, and he named his second son Kyle
Merritt Horner, as well as naming various businesses he owned with the Merritt
moniker.
My sister, Lynnette Jean Horner (born
October 9, 1953) was in honor of the two aunts. My father’s sister, Grace
Lynette (called Gracelyn), and my mother’s sister, Jean. My mother had a thing
about double n’s as you’ll see when it
gets down to me. Lynnette was called Lynn. Or “Nin” for the little ones who
couldn’t pronounce our L’s.
Next came Robin Elizabeth Horner (born
May 23, 1955). Now here is where it gets weird. When I asked my mother who
Robin was named for she said it was for my father, Robert. When I asked my
father who Robin was named for he said a license plate. More on that in a
minute. Elizabeth must have just sounded
good with Robin because there is no family connection there. Robin is the only
one of us who never had a nickname. She was Robin. Sometimes we would call her
Rob, but only because we were lazy.
So, the “famous” license plate story that
my father loved to tell was that in 1955 Connecticut began offering vanity
license plates. Meaning that you could order a specific name of series of
letters if you wanted to pay a little extra money. My father—a car enthusiast
who always owned some kind of sports car or another – decided this was for him
and headed down to the DMV to pick out a license plate that said, “RLH” for his
initials, Robert Loehwing Horner. The problem was, someone had already taken
RLH. So my father—as only my father would think—decided that close enough was
good enough. REH was available. So he took it. My sister Robin was born a few
months later. Coincidentally she was named Robin Elizabeth Horner. My father
thought it was quite amusing to tell people she had been named after the
license plate. Some 60 years later, that REH plate registration still lives in
the Horner family. In fact, I am the one who has it now on my car. My mother
began with it and after she moved out of state, Robin took it over. When Robin
moved out of state, it so happened that I was getting my first car. It was very
important to my Dad that I take over the REH plate. I did so with much pride at
the family history of it. People ask me about it all the time and what it
stands for and I love to tell the silly story. So much my Dad.
My brother, Richard Potter Horner came
next (born April 16, 1959). No Richards in our family, but Potter was the
middle name of my mother’s father, Harold Potter Willett. I always felt kind of
bad for him that he had what I thought was an embarrassing (kind of like potty)
middle name, but he never thought of it like that. As an adult, once J.K
Rowling, Harry Potter books came out and were such a huge success, Potter was
a really cool name to have! My brother was called Ricky for ever. But he goes
by the much more grown up Rick now.
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My grandmother, Jenny and me.
Thanksgiving 1969. I was 4 years old. |
And then came me. The baby (born
February 15, 1965). I had the honor to be named after my two grandmothers. My
mother’s mother was Jeanette Matthews Shrum Willett. She was called Jenny. When
exactly that began is in dispute. Some stories say it was started when my
grandparents moved to Swampscott and met the neighbor across the street, and her bridge club members began calling her Jenny. But Jenny was a common
nickname for Jeanette in the 1800’s and early 1900’s and her husband, Harold,
had a sister named Jeanette, whom was sometimes called Jenny, so some of us think
Grandad called her Jenny sometimes too. Regardless…my mother liked the name Jenny
and wanted me to be called that, so she named me Jeannette. Notice the 2 n’s
again. It is not the way Buba (as we grandkids called her) spelled it, but my
mother liked it that way. My middle name was Grace. After my Dad’s mother,
Ethel Grace Comp Horner. Grammy was always called Grace.
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Grammy's passive aggressive
charm bracelet.
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Grammy did not like the order in which
I was named. She said she thought the name Jenny would bring to mind the slang
term for a donkey, which was a common and, some thought, a derogatory word back
then. In retrospect, we think she was just a teensy
bit jealous that I was not named Grace Jeannette. Regardless, she didn’t have
so much of an issue with the name Jeannette, but she refused to call me Jenny.
I remember quite clearly she would call me Jenna. I even have her charm
bracelet of all her grandchildren’s silver “heads” and all our names engraved
on each. My “head” says Jenna. I remember it made me very mad when she called
me Jenna. And I remember very clearly when they came to visit in the 1970’s and
were staying at a motel on the Berlin Turnpike in Newington and we went down to
see them. I told Grammy to stop calling
me Jenna. I had to be about 8 or 9 at the time.
She listened. She called me Jenny from
that day on.
So I went by Jenny for nearly everything for most of my life. It wasn't until I was an adult and had to apply for jobs, taxes, etc. that I realized how frustrating it was that people assumed my name was Jennifer. A lot. When you introduce yourself as Jenny...somehow, 30 minutes later they are referring to you as Jennifer. Not Jen. Not Jenny. Jennifer. It's weird. Nothing against the name. It's just not mine.
Labels: Buba, Genealogy, Genealogy Blog, Harry Potter, Jennifer, Jenny, Liscense Plates, Nicknames