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Posts Tagged ‘Sariah’

I have a character, in the Young Adult Fantasy Novel that I am writing, which I have to find the perfect name for.   He is kind of a wimpy (but in an honest way) kid who has seen hard times.  He is mainly just uncoordinated and scared of life. 

 

Every once in a while I do a search for names and today I came across  Name Nerds! features.  This is a list of names that people have found to be, well, just plain wrong.  I have not gone to it but there is apparently a list of favorite names on the site too and the site is quick to say that it is all just a personal taste issue, so do not be offended. 

 

I am Sheryl.  My mother, and thus assorted relatives call me Sherry.  Since I was a teen, I have hated Sherry.  I think it may have something to do with boys singing out, “Sherrr err Sherr err err ey, Ba-aa-by.” to me in the hallway at school.  Yes, I was a teen when that song came out. 

 

I can thank my father, however, for saving me from being “Dixie,” as he refused to name his new daughter after a major Highway.  I have a dear friend named Dixie and that would be very strange.  We could do a duet, ‘Dixie and Dixie sing at the Roxie.’

 

Now, I dislike the name Sherry, for me, because it does not seem like a name for a woman; gosh, how do I put this?  Frankly, I think I am still in my prime.  So, I’ll be darn if I say, “A woman past her prime.”  I also refuse to be an “older woman.”  I am the new forty?? 

 

 

I had a friend, from Pennsylvania, who just could not pronounce Sheryl.  It always came out, “Sherrrrr, ol.”  Then, there is the matter of a dozen spellings.  But, I still like my name: Sheryl Adair VanVleck.  Everytime I have to spell that last name, I wonder why I like it.  It’s just who I am.

 

 In school there was one other Sheryl, and I think she used the “C” spelling: Cheryl.  Now, in Brown County, the art center of Indiana, I have met more Cheryl’s, Cherry’s, Sheryl’s and Sherry’s, than I have met in the whole rest of my life.  Perhaps it is an artistic name?  You know,  a name that causes you to be an artist. 

 

 There is a theory that what you name a child will affect who they become.  On the list, I found today, is Caleb, as a wimpy name.  (My DISCLAIMER: I will discuss grandchildren here, who I dearly love, no matter what their parents saddled them with.)  The child, who is the biggest wimp I have ever known, is named Caleb.

As a five year old boy, we were all out camping and he was just standing in front of us and started to scream and scream and scream.  He was backing away from us with terror on his face from one of nature’s horrors.  Even his mother was laughing hysterically when Caleb landed sitting in an open ice chest.  But, then, that fly that was on his chest was pretty scary.

   

 By the time “Micah” came along, we were used to son-in-law’s strange name choices, but Micah is a mineral, not a child. 

 

There was also the birth of this beautiful, delicate baby girl and the father who insisted on naming her “Sariah.”  Immediately, my mother said, “Why would you want to name a child after a skin disease?” 

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So much to say today.  When we took the boys, we were told never to come back to our see our other grandchildren who we had babysat and spent time with continually for years. We were like second parents.  Had I known how bad the abuse of the boys was—I mean, we knew some and that is why we took them, but I had no idea it involved a month locked in the closet, three days without food—had I known this type of thing, I would have called DFS out immediately.  Instead, the step-father got what he wanted. He wanted the three boys who were not his blood out of his family and he wanted us out of his life.  He was smiling when we left.

 

I woke up with a dream of my granddaughters.  I often dream of the oldest girl.  She and I had a special bond. While granddaughter’s number two and three, favored Grandpa and granddaughter number four was Gaffer’s baby. Oh, how she loved her big brother.  Granddaughter number one was my girl.

 

She seemed to favor Granddad to begin with but I had gone away for a month and when I returned, the babe in arms she was then looked at me with such admiration and love and that was it. She was my girl, from then on.  When we would arrive and be descended upon by the other children (this is a family of eleven children), granddaughter number one would hold back. I would look around for her and she would be at the edge of the room, near a corner, watching with her slight, shy grin to me.  When the other children then focused on their granddad for tickles and play time, she would come and sit on my lap and almost melt into my body and we would talk.  I miss her so much.  I miss all of them so much.

 

So, in my dream, I was at my mother’s apartment, outside and instead of the city houses, there was a large park and there, playing in the park was a passel of children. With the modern children playing were my two oldest granddaughters, in pale and shapeless, worn prairie dresses. And, they ran to me and I picked them up, and held them tight to me and was so happy. 

 

I tried not to wake up, but I did.  It has been three years now since I have seen them. How much they must have grown.  I am told they will find me.  But, knowing the damage that my grandson’s (who live with me now) suffer from, I fear for what shape they will be in. 

 

On other fronts:

 

I am watching the storm coming into New Orleans as I finish my morning rituals. It brings back a feeling that I have been through and, I’m sure, a lot of New Orleans families are going through now.  Your life becomes focused on one thing. All other concerns and fears and worries are pushed to the back and there is one focus of your life. Will you have a home, when you get back?

 

I went through fire evacuations several times during my years in Wyoming.  The worse was when we were told, as we sat in a Red Cross shelter, that the fire had reached our rural street of four houses and surrounded a house.  It had but the firemen saved all our street’s homes. 

 

Then, we were in Northern Indiana, for Electrician grandson’s graduation, and one of the boys came out and told me that I might want to get online and check our area because it was said to be under water.  So, for that night and the next day, we did not know what we would go home to.  Many people did lose their home and I still remember watching the damage from the tornado a week before, as we drove home. We had only slight water damage.  We were lucky.

 

But, I know the fear that is in New Orleans and area heart’s and my heart is with you today.  If you don’t mind me reserving a little bit of it for granddaughters.

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