Webbinsonte: A Lovely Name

We wanted to name our first daughter after Emily Webb (from Thornton Wilder’s Our Town), Emily Dickinson, and Emily Bronte, so we called her Webbinsonte. We knew it was a bit unusual. Some may find it a little hard to spell, even harder to pronounce, but we liked it. When we explained her name to friends, they just looked blankly back at us, jaws limp, lips trying to form words, but nothing came out. They were speechless—
so I guess they liked it, too.

Sure there were some drawbacks— like trying to find “name” souvenirs when we went on vacation. Little Webby [that’s what we sometimes called her when she was younger] would run up to the mug or necklace display with naïve anticipation.

“It should be right here between Wanda and Wendy,” she’d announce, but of course it never was. We often had to drag her sobbing from the store. It's still hard to talk about.

Eventually the kids at school started making cruel fun of little Webby with playground chants like, "Little Webby Whaa Whaa...
go and run to Daa Daa!" Every day she came home from kindergarten in tears.

"It's that Dufus boy, isn't it." I insisted.

"His name is Rufus, Dad, Rufus not Dufus, and actually he's the nicest boy I know. He understands. He sticks up for me every day."

"Well, good. And next time the other kids make fun of you, remind them that it's a literary name, sort of, and that all three of those ladies were very smart so you're smarter than three of them put together. Then stick out your tongue like this. That'll show 'em."

"But, Dad, that childish rebuttal would just be returning evil for evil. You and Mom have always said no good can come of that."

"You're right. See? You're so smart you even remember the things I forgot we taught you!"

We decided to drop the nick-name Webby and go with the full Webbinsonte in hopes that someday she'd thank us for being the only girl in the world with such a lovely name. A few years later, in the summer after her 3rd grade year, we spent the day on Mackinac Island. Heading back to the ferry, we gave her $10.00 to buy any souvenir she wanted at a little emporium beside the fudge shop.

“Anything?” she asked.
“Yes, Webbinsonte, anything you like.”
“Can I go inside by myself to pick it out?”

We didn’t mind, and off she went. In no time, she came out with bag held in both hands and a smile from ear to ear, insisting we not look inside the bag until we got home. That night she called us into her room and there on her dresser was a mug with the name “Emily” on it.

“Oh, Webbinsonte, I’m sorry they didn’t have the right mug. We could have ordered one special for you like always.” I looked around the room at all the Webbinsonte knick-knacks we’d special ordered through the years. (My favorite was her Mickey Mouse beanie. Her name didn’t fit between the ears so they sewed it from front to back down the middle like a Mohawk. I told her it made her hat special just like her name. She was so happy she cried the rest of the day at Disney World. There was no wind, but somehow the thing kept blowing off.)

“Dad… Dad…” my daughter's voice snapped me back to reality from my nostalgic tour of her room. “Dad, this is the right mug. I love the name Emily. My best friends call me Emily when we’re alone.

“What?” I stammered in dismay.
“How do you know who they’re talking to?” her mother asked.
“Because it’s me. You can still say I’m named after Emily Webb from Our Town, Emily Dickinson, and Emily Bronte because they all shared the first name Emily, see? It’s been there all along. That’s just as literary as Webbinsonte when you think of it like that.”
"Oh, I see, use the first names," said her mother, eyebrows rising.
“Hmmmm... sounds crazy," I pondered out loud, "So crazy it might just work. We'll give it a shot, Web—I mean … Emily…”

So after all those years of wondering why she hated roll call, we changed her name. I know what you’re thinking: Emily is so common, and I suppose it is. That's why we wanted to spell it Emmaleigh—you know, to give it some panache—but she pointed out that if we did, she would have to take that mug back to Mackinac Island.

She’s always been very practical.... gets that from her mom and me.

... Y H Y H Y H Y H Y ...

I have no idea what prompted me to post this fabricated farce—it just happened after a fun, carefree week of summer. The truth is, we chose the name Emily for our firstborn daughter long before she was born. There is some truth in the tale: we did choose the name partly in recognition of those three literary ladies.

If you’re familiar with Our Town, our newlyweds remind me of George and Emily sitting in that soda shop. They were high school sweethearts who decided to stay local, get jobs, and commute to college where they’re both in a five-year teaching program. They're second-year seniors at GVSU with only student teaching left.

So for 22 years they’ve remained a part of their respective households in a [relatively] small town setting. The two families are good friends, and Keith and Em gradually became part of each home as they’ve dated for five years. A week ago tonight was rehearsal… then Whoosh! It was and is the real thing, a new life... a new home together. [As Keith put it in his farewell remarks at the reception... "The two of us are now one...so the one of us...want to thank you all for being a part of our lives and this day..."] We're happy for them and that, for now anyway, they're still in the cast of our town.