First grandchild ~ It was a difficult delivery, going from natural childbirth to emergency Cesarean over the course of a two-day labor, and everyone was tremendously relieved when both mother and infant safely made it through the ordeal.
Matt calls from the hospital the day after the baby is born. “Mom, Brooke and the baby were both so valiant. We’ve decided to name him Valiant Satchel or Satchel Valiant. Which do you think is better?
I pause, then ask, “Is this multiple choice, and is there a “C” or “D” or “none of the above?”
“You don’t like them?”
“Matt, for some odd reason you and Jon named all your dogs guy’s names: Jake, Sam, Jack, Joe, and now you want to give your son the name Valiant? He’s not a German Shepherd. And what’s with Satchel? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re white. Sorry, but I think you’re setting that kid up to have the crap beat out of him at school.
So they name him Satchel Valiant Sevenau. My friends and family had a field day with that one.
March 2003
I get another call, and Matt is not happy. “Mom, I want you to quit making fun of Satchel’s name.”
We live in a small town and apparently some blabbermouth snitched.
“I’m not. I haven’t said a word.”
“You don’t have to,” he said. “I can hear your eyes rolling.”
“Well, that’s true. But I can’t help it. C’mon Matt. Everyone’s reaction is the same as mine.”
“I’m serious,” he snaps.
“All right, all right, I’ll stop.” Or try to anyway…
In October, seven months after Satchel was born, my middle sister Liz died. Matt drives with me to the family gathering at Liz and Tony’s place in Fallbrook, and on the way to Southern California we stop in Carmel and pick up my brother and his wife Marian. Our cousins, Dick and Pat Hauser join us at Liz’s. As we are all catching up with one another under the shade of the macadamia tree, Pat asks Matt about the baby and what they named him. When Matt tells Pat, she responds with, “What’s his real name?”
I hate it when you snort cola out your nose. It’s so painful. I didn’t dare make eye contact with Marian. We both got up and took off in two different directions, hanging onto our sides, dying.
Fast forward five years ~ Brooke and Matt have a second child, a girl.
Satchel spends the day with me and we talk a lot about the new baby. When Matt comes to pick him up, he asks if Satch has told me her name. My grandson is a little hard to understand sometimes and I couldn’t quite make out his mumbling as he made no sense.
“I’m not sure,” I answer.
Without missing a beat, and I’m sure setting me up, my son says, “Temple Lova Tiger-Lily Sevenau.”
I stare at him, thinking, he looks normal. Then I look down, my mind ratcheting like a pinball machine: he’s got to be kidding; don’t make eye contact, don’t let your mouth twitch, relax your jaw, breathe, just breathe.
I can’t help it. Somewhere from the recess of my throat I croak, “Did… did you put that on her birth certificate?” My mind has gone berserk. This is my fault. I never should have dropped acid before he was born. Or is it Brooke’s mother’s fault for letting her child drink Kool-Aid? My God, our children are both brain damaged.
Mother’s Day 2008
Brooke later asks me if I want to know where they got the name Tiger-Lily.
“I’m dying to know,” I breathe, trying to keep any trace of sarcasm out of my tone. “Do tell.”
“Well, I had a dream that Matt was planting tiger lilies, filling the whole yard with them!”
“Ah, that explains everything.” When I told my friend Elaina, all she could say was, “well thank God he wasn’t planting rutabaga”
The Lova part came from Satchel. Ever since he could talk he said he would have a brother named Cozzie and a sister named Lova, and I think it’s a fine idea to let a five-year-old name a child.
Thankfully, their names have grown on me. Well, their first and last ones, anyway. And the kids like their monikers, and if they’re happy, I’m happy. Fortunately they go to a Waldorf school where the children are instilled with kindness and manners. Besides, their school is populated with a new generation of children who nearly all have special names, so they fit right in.
Moon Valley School 1977
p.s. Life comes full circle. In the ’70s most of the kids at Moon Valley School had “special” names. Perusha lived with his as long as he could, then later he changed it to Tom. At that time my kids (Matt and Jon) were among the handful of conventionally named outliers in that hippie-filled alternative school that for five years was such a wonderful part of our lives. So who am I to say anything?
April 2008
© 2003, 2008. Catherine Sevenau.
All rights reserved.
susan Dalberg says
Yes, snorted coke through the nose and all over my desk!!! Thanks for the hysterical laugh–much needed Cathy.
Geoffrey Elliot says
Catherine, I’ve always loved the first names of your grandkids, although the complete monikers are bit much. From the little I know of Satchel’s life, I’d have to say he seems to have dealt with it just fine! I’d even suggest he is well on his way to living up to his middle name as well. Truly a valiant young man! For me, Temple is a beautiful and inspirational name, and the joy I see in her face is fitting. As for you, my friend, moving and humorous writing as always!
Catherine Sevenau says
thank you on all counts
Judith Hunt says
Laughing so hard I cried. Your writing is hysterical!
Jim Chatfield says
Cathy, you can make any story outstanding in humor. Please never quit writing, I love all your stuff. You can make an old man smile every time. Thanks a million.
Barbara Jacobsen says
Thank the goddess they like their names! And you were Valiant!
Susie Price says
I am sure that your son did not have the problem of other kids in his class having the same name (as I did). ….My mother had a beloved cat, named Sam. Sam was also the name of my great grandfather Price. When our son arrived, we named him Sam (not Samuel). I am sure that great grandpa was a Samuel, but we decided to go with Just Plain Sam, but only the Sam part made it on the birth certificate. Besides, it is easy to pronounce.
Catherine Sevenau says
My son had one other Matt/Matthew at Moon Valley, and then others when he went to public school. Mathew was my father’s father and grandfather’s name, spelled with one “t”
Patty says
Satchel is the name of the comic strip shar pei dog in “Get Fuzzy”. I like it, though. When I was in my teens, I had a cat I named Kevin, and my dad named his pet bird Timothy. I named my youngest son Kevin Timothy. He told me sarcastically, “Thanks for naming me after a cat and a bird.” When I was born, I was the fourth girl. My brother was told he could choose my first name if he didn’t get the brother he was promised. He named me after his ten year old girlfriend. Fortunately he wasn’t allowed to give me her middle name, too, because the neighbor who drove me nuts pretending I was her daughter was named Maxine. I wouldn’t want that name.