Some new stories have come in, so here’s a story about a person who’s proud of her name!
I was named by my parents, and my middle name was for a great-grandmother of mine. The name “Phoebe” has different significance to both of my parents, as for my Christian father Phoebe is a person from the Bible, and for my literary-minded mother Phoebe is a Shakespearean character. For my mother, wisdom, thoughtfulness, and constancy have always been trademarks of my name, and they seem to have manifested themselves in me quite nicely. For my father it is a marker of the faith that he has carried with him, and the faith he prayed I could carry within me. When I was younger I absolutely hated my middle name, and nicknames, so “Phoebe” was my only option, no matter that everyone who said it either came up with a ridiculous nickname on the spot or pronounced it wrong. Any time a teacher called out a name with a “P” I knew it was probably me, and I wished for a name like Peregrine or Penelope- something where the “P” actually lived off for its purpose. Now, however, my name makes me unique- i have only met one other Phoebe in my life. It gives me definition, and while I may wear another name for a time, I will always be Phoebe.