Namesake

I have enjoyed the process of my children picking out names for my grandchildren. When I was pregnant with my own children, I don't recall asking my parents what names they would like me to choose. It was strictly up to my husband and me, and I have remembered that each time baby names have been bantered about between my son and his wife and my daughter and her husband. For the most part I have been happy with their choices. It's not as if I had to try to accept any name I couldn't stand, such as Lloyd, Floyd, Horace, Winnie, Hazel or Imogene, the latter of which I hear is wildly popular this year.

Naming your children is such a personal thing. You either choose a name to honor someone in your life, or you choose a name you look forward to using day in and day out for the rest of your life because you like the sound of it. Or it could be a combination of the two.

I have never regretted the names my husband and I picked for our three children. Our older son's name goes back in my husband's family several generations, including his middle name which is my husband's name. Our younger son was name after a blond haired little two-year-old boy I saw running across the grass at Fort Stevens State Park in Oregon. We were on a camping trip at Fort Canby State Park near Long Beach, WA. I was seven months pregnant at the time, and we hadn't been able to agree on a boy's name. When this little boy's mom called his name, he turned around to look at her, and he looked so much like our older son at that age, it took my breath away (but then everything did at that point, because I was suffering with severe asthma during that pregnancy). I knew then that this was the right name for our baby if he turned out to be a boy.

My daughter was named after a friend I met on a music mission trip with Lutheran Youth Encounter during the summer of 1967. A group of 21 college-age young people, who were selected by audition, trained together for a month on Lake Minnetonka in Minnesota. At the end of the month the director divided us into three equal teams of seven members each. There were three girls and four guys on our team, and we traveled together in a station wagon for two months, going all through the Midwest and then up into Canada and down into Upstate New York. We put on music programs in cities like Chicago, Detroit, Des Moines, Madison, Milwaukee and Toronto, and we were counselors at Bible camps, sang on radio programs, in prisons, at nursing homes, worked with youth groups, etc. It was a life-changing experience for me to say the least. Saying goodbye at the end of the summer was so hard. That's why there was no question in my mind about flying to Ames, Iowa two summers later for the wedding of my friend and former team member, Angela Asp. Laurie Blomquist, the other girl on our team, flew in from North Dakota, and we stayed together at Angela's parents' house. It was such a beautiful wedding in the church where Angie's father was the pastor. Angie and her three sisters sang a cappella for the ceremony---they were amazing.

As busy as Angie was, she took the time to be with me and Laurie. I lost track of Angie Asp. I don't even remember her married name. I determined clear back then that if I ever had a daughter, I would name her Angela, because Angie was the most beautiful girl, inside and out. Here are some old pictures of Angie (long blond hair), Laurie and me at her house the night before the wedding. Then I will add my daughter's senior picture. Is it my imagination? I kind of think the two Angelas look alike! Angie will never know I honored her by naming my daughter after her. I really doubt she named her daughter Firstelle.


(Angie is on the right, Laurie is on the left, and I, Firstelle, am in the middle in the top photo.)