What's your middle name?

Some are stately, some are silly, but all of them have a story to tell

My middle name is Bearse. Yes, I know it sounds like the word “curse”. Even “worse”, it rhymes with “hearse”.

Why couldn’t it have been Gladys, Ethel, or even Gertrude? Sure those are old-fashioned names, but at least they don’t conjure images of tall, somber men with ashen faces walking behind a black carriage with a casket.

When I was younger, I avoided answering the question, “What’s your middle name?” I would redirect the conversation to “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor, dog’s name or what did you have for lunch yesterday?” If I were really on the hot seat, I would revert to distracting parlor tricks and roll up the edges of my tongue in my mouth or dislocate my thumb on demand.

What are the origins of Bearse?

For middle name aficionados, the name Bearse is either English or Welsh. The name arrived from England in 1638 aboard the Confidence, via 20-year-old Augustine Bearse. It turns out that one year later, he was one of the founders of Barnstable on Cape Cod.

The other meaning is believed to be derived from the Old English term “berhus” which translates to barley house, and we all know what that means.

My parents chose the name as a way to carry on the legacy of my grandmother’s family. She was born Janet Bearse and two decades later became Janet Robinson when she married my grandfather. Then she chose the name Grammy when we came along. And, when we had kids of our own, she became Gigi, the great-grandmother.

While she was short in stature, her impact on me and our family was oversized.

She was the matriarch.

She built her house and her life around her family. When my grandmother and grandfather were just starting out in their new home, they invited all of my grandmother’s brothers and sisters to live with them until they had a place of their own. (Did I tell you that my grandfather was a saint?) My mom and her sister grew up with all of those aunts and uncles buzzing around. My poor mother had to stay in her crib until the aunts moved out and there was a proper bed for her to sleep in. They say she finally got out of the crib to go to first grade (I think they were exaggerating). And, once these aunts and uncles finally married and moved out, they kept coming back for the holidays.

She was the chef.

Given that there were always people around and mouths to feed, she spent most of her time in the kitchen. She made the yummiest chicken soup and blintzes and the crunchiest french fries from scratch. The story goes that my dad wasn’t quite ready to pop the question to my mom. Then he tasted Grammy’s cheesecake. Two bites later, it was a done deal. And, while we have all tried to replicate the creamy dreamy dessert, (my sister-in-law has come very close), there was a special ingredient in that cheesecake that only my grandmother could mix in. Her love.

She was full of life.

She was a flapper in the 20’s, one of those independent-minded, super-stylish women. I used to stare at the picture of her in a cool flapper dress with one of those funky headbands and imagine her dancing in a scene from The Great Gatsby. She played piano with gusto, cards with the ladies downstairs, and games with us (whenever she could get out of the kitchen).

She gave the best hugs.

There is this thing that happens to women of a “certain age”. They get saggy upper arm flesh. Push-ups and lifting weights can help, but these flabby bat wings begin to appear after 65. Grammy had those saggy upper arms and for entertainment, she let us make them jiggle. She called them Hadassah wings, named after Queen Esther, who was known for bringing kindness to the world. My grandmother used her wings to wrap us in her unconditional love.

Time changes everything

Many decades later, I’ve gone from being embarrassed about my middle name, to being very proud that I carry my grandmother’s stories with me. Instead of just putting my middle initial on administrative forms, today I happily write in my full middle name. Every time I use it, I’m reminded of my family roots which are so deep and strong.

Today when people ask me what my middle name is, I proudly say “Bearse” and begin to tell them everything I just told you.

So, what’s your middle name?