In honor of my mother's birth, I considered composing this entire entry in French. My consideration was quickly dropped because, um, I don't speak French. It is up to Nora to learn it and retroactively edit this post into the appropriately festive language.
Comment dit-on "do your own homework, lady?"
Let's honor Nona Jean with the tale of Nora's name...
As most of you know, Basil is not just Basil Harris but Basil Harris IV. If we'd had a boy, we would have named our son Basil Harris V...because you can't stop at four. I suppose some folk out there might disagree, but we're fans of the legacy.
Legacy. Yep. That "V" is quite something to bestow on a kid, but what about The Fifth's brother or sister? We wanted (and still do) to have two children and wanted (and still do) both of them to have a good story to go with their names. We set out to thinking of such a storied name for a girl and, after many late-night name constellations, settled upon the name of our daughter (though we didn't officially decide until the day of her 19-week ultrasound--the one where we knew for certain she was she):
Nora Somerville Jorgensen
JorgensenThis part should be pretty clear: Jorgensen is also my last name. We were prepared to give a son Basil's last name; it made sense to us to give our daughter my last name. (Side note: should our future second child also be a girl, she will have the last name Harris.)
NoraHer first name is all hers. I've always liked girls' names that seem of the sea or of the woods. "Nora" fit that magical requirement and was a name of which Basil was already a fan. The smallest bit of research told us "Nora" carried the meaning of "light." Whenever I say Nora and mean my own daughter, I hear in her name the light at the tip of the waves, the sun rising over the growing crops on the farm, the sun setting with a drop into the ocean. And I am ever-enjoying the on-going discovery of the light that means just her and is evoked along with the calling of her name.
SomervilleCatherine Somerville was my mother's favorite grandmother. My mother knew her as Nanna Somerville, though the story takes place when she was the black-haired, blue-eyed Catherine Chisolm. When the Chisolm family emigrated from Scotland, young Catherine became very ill on the long boat journey. Her hair turned from black to brown and her eyes from blue to brown. Catherine's mother was very superstitious and took this visible change to be a warning, a sign that it was not the right time to move to the United States. When the boat arrived, the family sold all of their belongings--except for the piano--and returned to Scotland. Many years would pass before they would attempt the journey again.*
But they did. They arrived, Catherine grew up and married a Somerville. My grandmother Beverly was born. Beverly grew up and married a Baker. My mother was born. She grew up and married a Jorgensen. I was born. I grew up and married a Harris. And Nora was born.
With black hair and blue eyes.
*This is the way we're telling the story to Nora. Other versions? Let's hear 'em: they can only add to the richness of having a family name. When I was a kid? I thought the story went that my great-great-grandmother's superstition was so strong that she convinced the captain of the ship to turn the boat around in the middle of the ocean in order to promptly return to Scotland.
