A Childhood of Names

Growing up, I assumed everyone's last name was something unique and yet cryptic. Whereas a first name was given, something our parents used to call us in at night, for our teachers to say to get our attention and our friends to differentiate us, I always assumed the name of our families were more mysterious. One simply couldn't understand them or decipher their meaning. Still, they were badges and honored. Sometimes they were the origins of nicknames. 

I think I was raised in a unique time, though I am certain everyone thinks that of their childhood. However, in my hometown of St.Catharines, there was an interesting mix and medley of Dutch, German, Italian, Polish and Italian families with the already established English-Irish-Scott variety. I liked that some of my neighbors could speak Italian or Polish to their children, that on Sunday, instead of going to church I went to visit my Dutch grandparents where my father and opa shared Dutch jokes and humor. Language floated and circulated around me, offering this cultural weave I only began to truly appreciate years later when I moved away. In a sense, I think I have always been searching for that world of European diversity and beauty. 

In the summer of 2012, I embarked on an European adventure and towards the close, landed up in Haarlem, the birthplace of my grandmother. While sitting in my hostess, Ellen's garden, sipping wine, I talked about my last name, how in university I met a German professor who suggested it was the Dutch diminutive of 'brothers'. For instance, in German, you have Haus for 'house' and then Häuschen for 'small house' or cottage. Similar, I had wrote about 'cookie' in a previous blog, it being the diminutive of  koek or cake in Dutch.

Ellen then went inside and returned with a heavy, hardbound book. She flipped a few pages and then handed me the burgundy volume of time stained, rice paper pages. I read and wrote down the following:

Broer   m         -s

Broertje; gewone, alledagse vorm voor broeder, bet.

1; ook: naam voor een jongen die zusters heeft: mijn _ is twee jaar ouder dan ik; (iron.) vergeet je grote _ niet gezegd tegen iem. Die dreigt, maar die men niet in staat acht tot optreden, voor wie men niet bang is; _tje o - s kleine broer: (zegsw.) een – ann iets dood hebben er een hekel aan hebben; als een – op iets likjen zeer gelijsoortig zijn

Ellen helped me with the translation and the main points are as follows:

"Broertje, someone who might live in a convent, a monk or a brother, a mason or a member of a community. Broertje' or 'Broers' could be a brother or someone you don't know in the street (I thought of the term, 'hey, buddy' we use in North American when addressing someone we haven't met yet). Also, a notary which I found fascinating."

I returned to Canada with a new found appreciation for last names, if not an insight. I thought of my family, the various aunts who had married and taken the last names of their husbands. My Aunt Connie, for instance. I knew Van Egmond referred to the town of Egmond, now Bergen in Noord Holland. But what about Van Wingerden, the surname of my Uncle Paul, married to my father's sister, Marleen? Well, I learned it was derived from the Dutch word for vineyard or wijngaard or 'wine garden'.

Dekker, though is a fairly common name. I have seen that name on bus benches and billboards all my life, specifically for real estate agents and repairman; and it's a name you'll typically find in telephone directories in both The Netherlands and Canada. While in Holland, however I learned that 'dek is a covering and the origin of our word 'deck'. So, it only made sense that a 'dekker' was actually a 'roofer' or 'thatcher' (which explains good ol' Margaret's name, the late and former PM of Great Britain.)

It amazes me how often last names which appear obtuse and relatively obscure, once seen through the lens of another language become common. In high school, for instance, there were Millers and Stones. I later learned that Müller and Stein are the German equivalents. There was a Steenhuis in a one of my brother's classes. Steen is stone in Dutch and huis, well, one doesn't need to guess is 'house'. So 'Stone House.'

If we continue with the German theme, I grew up alongside people with the name Neufeld (New Field), Bergthaler (Mountain Valley), Thallmann (Valley man) Zwanzig (Twenty), Braun (Brown), Schneider (tailor/dressmaker), Herzog (duke) and Herweg (way here).

And then were was Julie Giesbrecht, a pretty but quiet, blonde-haired girl in grade seven. She sat beside me and little did I know then that her last name was derived from Old High German: gisil or hostage/pledge and berht for bright/famous. 

As for the English names, there were the obvious ones likes Wilson, Elliotson and Johnson, Counsel and Smith. But then I knew a Stacy Colby. We used to call her 'Colberger' in Grade 4 as a tease. Then after my trip in 2012, I went online and researched her name. Her name is Germanic, Old Norse but from Norfolk and Cumbria. Colby or koli, a person who was swarthy as in 'kol' or charcoal may have originally worked in a forge or simply been of exotic origin. 

I think now also of a Sam Powell. Powell translates into the 'son of the servant St.Paul'. Then there was Matt Graham and his name could be taken to mean 'grey home' - ham being short for 'hamlet' or village or homestead (hamstead). Also, Graham could refer to someone of the Grantham, Lincolnshire-area of England.

In high school, I knew a Lindsay Peats. Many today know the American actress, Amanda Peet. The names are certainly related as 'peat' may refer to organic matter - so someone living on the land. But also 'peat' or peete, in contrast could pertain to a 'spoiled or pampered child.' 

Then there were the many Polish and Ukrainian names. I was friends with a Zaluski. Zalew is Slav for 'flooded area'. My mother, when she was young fell in love with a Sadowski ('from the orchard' or from Sadow, a town in Poland). I knew a Kowalsky (Kowal, 'blacksmith'), a Malinowski (malina, raspberries, so 'dweller by raspberries') and Woźniak (a 'driver' or 'chauffeur' as in carriages). 

And like 'son' in English/Scandinavian or 'sohn' German, -icz, -wicz, -owicz, -ewicz, and -ycz typically mean "son of" in Polish. And with a -k- as in czak, -czyk, -iak, -ak, -ik, and -yk, it is the diminutive. 

My Slavic grandfather's original name was Bulbuck which originally could have been 'Vulbuck'. Either way, his name could have meant 'son of a bull' or a 'farmer of cattle or oxen.' (Буйвол - buffalo or вол oxen).

As for the Italian names, I remember Pace (peace), Mantini (which could either be derived from Mantione, a maker of mantellos or 'capes' or someone from Mantua in Lombardy), and Fontana ('spring', 'well' or the obvious 'fountain').  

Then there was a Christina Prantera who lived down the street for me. I have looked up the name and have come up with no hits nor meanings. Though, I have wondered if the name is actually Latin-based. 'Pran' means dinner and 'terra' is earth. So could her name suggest a cook or someone who prepared feasts? It would only be fitting. Her father owned a restaurant and later, after working in hospitality, specifically in hotels, Christina started her own pizza joint. So one might be attempted to suggest, even occasionally believe that our names hold the meanings of who we are and sometimes who we become.