Essay: What’s in a Middle Name?

I, like many other people, have three names. I have the first name my parents chose for me because they loved it, as well as the surname that came from generations before me. But the name that is most important to me is my middle name — Lindsey. 

The main reason that I have such an appreciation for the name is that I share it with my dad. A typically female name, he said growing up he was often teased for having it. But I’m glad he does, because it means we’re able to be similar in another way. 

I believe I’m a perfect mix of my parents. I have the calmness of my mother and the humor of my dad. But I’ve always thought I looked most like my dad with his curly hair and blue eyes. 

I was given my dad’s middle name while my sister was given my mom’s. Just as our names resemble a particular parent, our features do, too — my sister with the green eyes and straight hair of our mom.

I’ve always been curious about how it’s possible we hold the same name as the parent that we physically take after. As a child, this coincidence led me to imagine that our middle names played a role in our genetics. 

The name Lindsey runs deep in my family — the knowledge I have of its history connects me with my paternal grandfather and his mother. Just as I do, my dad shares his middle name with his father. My grandfather’s matching curly hair and blue eyes grew my interest in how the name seemed to predetermine my features.

My grandfather died the same year I was born, just a couple months after my birth. Never having met him, I always liked the fact that at least I held the same middle name he carried his whole life. This made me feel as connected to him as possible, even though I knew we never breathed the same air. 

Throughout my childhood I heard stories about my late grandfather, allowing me to learn how similar I was to both him and my dad. From what I’ve been told, all three of us shared our bold humor — and of course two thirds of our names. 

My mom told me how my dad used to hold me in my first few months, mourning his father and mesmerized by how prominently I resembled him. 

From the stories I’ve heard and the pictures I’ve seen, my belief is that the power behind the Lindsey name began with my great grandmother. 

She held Lindsey as her last name, losing it when she married. She kept the name alive by giving it to her son, my grandfather. She, of course, had the hair that has come to be known as the “Lindsey curls.” 

The four generations of a shared name and shared hair convinced me they were connected. I loved that I had the same name as my dad and those before him who I never got to meet. Knowing I also had the curls they had allowed me to grow an appreciation after years of hating how they looked. 

Of course this isn’t the case for everyone. Some peoples’ middle names are the result of their dad misremembering his ancestor’s name, as my roommate’s is. Some people lack a middle name entirely, as my boyfriend does. 

But if you do have a middle name, it’s likely there’s a reason it was given to you. Whatever its meaning is, it may connect you to something deeper, proving it’s not simply a name.

Feature image courtesy of Elizabeth Maxwell