In Your Mother's Words, Your Name...

In response to a request on the Naylor kids names, here's the scoop, chilluns. Right out of the horse's mouth, so to speak.....

Linda Rae: I think I mentioned before that in after years I was sorry we went to strictly popular names (not familial), for our first two children, we wised up later on and realized what's really important. But at the time we tried to choose names with a longer one for the first name, and a single syllable one for the 2nd name, with a double syllable last name, we thought it sounded...well, just more harmonious. So we had Linda Rae. This child proved to be a very pushy, enormously independent little fighter, who early-on grasped life by the horns and actually ruled the roost among the neighborhood children, even though the youngest of all of them, seriously younger, she recruited her army and assigned them their jobs in such areas as building the local snow fort, no ifs. ands, or buts, Linda Rae was juvenile queen of the neighborhood. I 'm afraid one of my most embarrassing situations in my life involved Linda at the age of three. Imagine us sitting out on our front porch in the cool of the evening, after an insufferably hot day, just taking our ease, as were all the rest of the neighbors, all sitting on their front porches (lawn chairs hadn't been invented yet).....when what to our wondering eyes should appear, but a little girl giggling outrageously and obviously enjoying the feel of the cool air on her BARE-NAKEDNESS (not a stitch on), and running up and down the sidewalk on the front street. Where she dumped her clothes is anybody's guess. Somehow I think she realized she was being just a tad naughty, but hang the consequences, she entertained the entire neighborhood, they loved it, can't say I did, but I sure never have forgotten it... Then there was......

Judith Anne: another lyrical name. After Linda, this baby was the sweetest, most lovable little being you could ever imagine, give her a bath, feed her and she was off to dreamland for like ? eight hours ? I would put her out on the front porch in her carriage (she too was a summer baby), and she would sleep like a little angel all day. One day I discovered our enormous black cat, Satan, sleeping with her, curled around her head, a little too close for her breathing comfort in my estimation, she was wriggling, red-faced and too small to cast off that big heavy cat. Satan got his walking papers that very day, I'm afraid. And never again would we have a cat when our children were small babies. Yes, perhaps peculiar attitude, but once warned, twice shy. Judy was the opposite in personality to Linda, never the leader, always the devoted follower. Linda was quite intensely jealous of her baby sister, I remember one time she was confiding in my sister, her Auntie Teeny, saying to her "Auntie Teeny, I'd like to frow (throw) dat baby in the river!" I don't remember what brought that one on, some terrible crisis probably. Then along came....

Robert Douglas: and here the pendulum really swung! Both family names! Robert for my brother Bob, Douglas for his father, of course. Rob was a nice happy baby too, as I recall. When he arrived he was seven lbs. 11 oz, a decent weight for a full-time boy baby.....Doug was so INCOHERENT at having a son after two daughters, that he told everybody the baby was eleven pounds, seven ounces (just a bit backwards there)....so I'm getting all these phone calls and congrats cards saying "Wow! Eleven-seven, that's a BIG BABY there! How did you manage that?" Rob was involved in another extremely embarrassing memory for me, I've never told this to anybody, probably because it was all my fault!!!!! You know how, with some baby boys anyway, when you're changing them and the cooler air hits their skin? something triggers the waterworks and wow! they soak everything within sight before you can get the new diaper pinnned in place? (Note here to grandchildren who never heard of diapers made of cloth and PINNED in place>) Anyway, (here's the embarrassing part...) I made the big mistake of changing Rob on the end of the kitchen table, instead of removing to the bedroom or his crib or some surface other than the kitchen table..... and, true to form, Rob did the little whiddle-whiddle thing, only with more push power than usual, and guess what? Hit the butter dish, which was still sitting on the far-end of the kitchen table. Yep! a good three feet, now that's P for Power, isn't it? Do you feel nauseous? I did, in fact I threw out both butter and dish, because I was sure it could never be
revived. I take all the blame for this misdemeanor. And then came....

Debra Christine: Debra was a really popular name at that time, although I abstained from the "Deborah" spelling as it smacked a little too much of the Jewish version....(OK so maybe I was just a tad racist at that point, having stemmed from a household where a father let everyone know how he felt about the Hunkies, the English, the Irish, etcetc, you get what I mean). The Christine was another form of Christina, who was my mother, my aunt, my sister, my great aunt, back to kingdom come......but with the "Debra" ending in an "a" I didn't think Debra Christina sounded as harmonious as Debra Christine. Besides, what simplified everything was her initials, DCN, mirrored those of her dad, seeing as how she was born on his birthday. She was born early in the wee hours of May 18th, I had been visiting at our house with the next-door neighbors, who went home about 11 p.m. with assurances, "well, if anything happens tonight, call on us!" Might explain here, Doug had left for work earlier ( he was a brakeman on the CNR at that time and would travel to North Battleford that night, and be back home early in the morning. Anyway, about 11:30 I had the first twinges of going into labour...and it was moving along pretty fast. So of course, I called Jim and Edie and told them I had to go to the hospital like right now! So over they came....Edie in her nightie and housecoat, hair up in curlers, I was still dressed, so just put on my pregnant coat, and off they went.....without me, Jim was so befuddled he took off in the car with just Edie in the front seat, and here am I, left behind, calling frantically, Hey Wait for me!
Well, that hurdle over with, and me esconced in the car too, we took off very erratically, for the hospital. When we got to the admitting desk, here we were, the three of us, Jim and Edie so obviously agitated (the pains were coming sharper and closer by this time), me, trying to be as calm as I could force myself to.....not really "showing" too much, I was astounded when the admitting clerk said "Excuse me, sir, but which one is the patient?" (Edie was quite obese).
Debbie, the reward, arrived in all her glory about an hour or two later. We thought Judy was easy? Debbie was a doll of a child, with the best nature of all of our children, before and after. Got along with everybody, sweet-faced with her big blue eyes and trusting nature.....there's something to be said of the "middle" child, they're predestined. Next was...

Randall Hugh: The Randall was RANDOM, although my friend Wilkie Wanless at the Lumbermen's Association where I worked, I remember, had some reservations about calling a child "Randy"......he had spent a lot of time during the war with an English squadron (he was a pilot) and evidently "randy" has some connotations to Brits that I knew nothing about. Anyway, the heart murmur, which was much more than a murmur, called patent ductis arteriosis, was detected immediately and poor little baby was in for a three week introduction to this world of tests, tests and more tests. Luckily he was born in the University Hospital, which was a teaching hospital in the first place, with probably the best neonatal unit in the city at that time. He was a cranky baby, when we finally got him home, probably in pain some of the time?? he was on digitalis for some months. But he seemed to thrive and gained weight fairly normally...although always small and wiry, he became as all small boys, intensely interested in cars and trucks and such-like toys when he was little, a baseball/basketball/dirt- bike- rider -from- hell as he grew older. Randy LOVED sports, and wasn't happy when the church teams tended to leave him sitting on the bench when the game got down to the last crunch. (His coach apologized to me, saying, I know he wants to play so much, right to the end, but when I look at him, so intense, with that bluish tinge to his skin and those clubbed fingers and toenails, I just freak out and through my own fear for him, I have to leave him sitting there....I'm so sorry!). When he was maybe 11 or 12, one day one of the Schlosser kids across the street from us threw a little metal car at Randy, which struck his eye, and he ended up with a displaced retina...well, off to the hospital he went. The problem was cleared up in a few days, but Randy was incensed every time the doctors and their interns came to check on him, the budding doctors always were much more interested in listening to his heart, it made a sound not commonly heard by the medical teams, and it was a good opportunity for teaching for those going on to cardiac training. And Randy would mutter "They're a lot more interested in my heart than in my eye!" I'm getting off the subject here.....Randy's second name, Hugh, was for my dearest and best uncle Hughie, who lived with our family all my growing-up days and was like a second father to me, and such a great influence in my life. Anyway, then along came....

Jeffrey Allan: Jeffrey was definitely destined to be "Russell", by this time, I had had my choice of names, pretty well, so I decided OK, Doug needs a turn at naming our numerous progeny, so this time, he can pick. And he picked "Russell"..... he announced it to the rest of the children, and Judy, always very sharp, pipes up and says, "Oh goodie! when he goes to school everybody will call him "Rusty Nayl". Well, if that name didn't go down the tubes, very quick-like. Jeff was my largest child, 9 lbs. 10 oz., big baby, very healthy, a beautiful child, with the "Wilson" big head, and an astounding intelligence that left us in awe much of the time. I think I've told of the times when he "got lost" because he was determined to go his own way, and see what HE wanted to see, he'd often find himself parted from the rest of the family, and provided us with many an anxious moment trying to find the dang kid. But he was never lost, it was the rest of us who were. Jeff's very active and enquiring mind enable him to pull down fantastic marks in school, his teachers doted on him. In his early years, like 3, 4, 5....he spoke with a lisp, and sometimes the things he came out with were hilariously funny to us. One time we were riding in the car, Dad driving, as always, approaching the railway crossing on 103 Street and Whyte Avenue, there was a train blocking the street, with the rear brakeman signalling the front brakeman with his hand signals.....I can still hear Jeff, watching intently from the back seat, at his father's shoulder, muttering "Look at that dumb Jack-eyeth pathing hith hand over hith eyeth! Doethn't he look thtupid?" ( "jackass" was one of his father's favorite derogatory expressions. Jeff was just reiterating what his dad would commonly come out with!) The "Allan" in his name was for Allan Sullivan, a close friend of my brother Bob, and also our upstairs room renter for some university years, a very fine young man and just like one of our own, you might say. We both agreed if our Jeff grew up to be as great a person as Allan, we would gladly give him a namesake. Besides, we thought the name very harmonious......

And last but never least, along came...

David Andrew. I had always loved the name David, years later I found it fairly often in my own family genealogy, although didn't know it at the time. Andrew likewise, some of my Haddows were Andrews, a good old Scottish name, you know I never forget my Scots origins, I myself am Scottish to the core, although perhaps not so tight-waddish as people like to believe the true Scot is. But I will let you in on a secret, I don't think David himself ever knew this......
Andrew Cairns was probably my first boy-friend when I was 16 or 17, I had never forgotten how disappointed I was when he went back to University to pursue his medical career. He lived in the small town of Kitscoty (or his family did), and had suffered peritonitis from a too-late removed appendix, and had to take a full year off his University studies. So back home he had to go, his dad was the local butcher, Scots' Catholic people....my best girlfriend Verna Potter was going steady with his younger brother Charlie, so probably just a diversion for Andrew, the four of us started hanging out. As for me, I thought the sun rose and set on him, he was devastatingly handsome, to begin with, smart, successful. He got his medical degree and carried on his practise in Edmonton for many years following those early days. (I kept track of the guy! must've been some lingering attraction there for me)....he married a lady who was to become the local consul for the Netherlands, so their lives revolved around medical and consulate circles. Of course I never told my husband the "real reason" I liked the name Andrew, he would've gone bonkers, and would never have permitted it!

So there you have it! what, how, why we named out children as we did! Never meant it to turn into "true confessions"
(that was the name of a popular magazine back in my teen days, the kind you kept stuffed under the mattress and only brought out when you and your bgf were somewhat star struck by the vagaries of Hollywood.)