I get a lot of questions about my middle name.
“What was that you said?”
“Fain.”
“Fain?”
“Yes, it’s just like ‘rain’ but with an ‘f’ instead of an ‘r.’”
“Fain? F-A-I-N. Really?”
“Yep, Fain.”
“That’s interesting. [Beat.] What’s a Fain?”
When I’m not in a hurry, I explain that it’s a family name. When I am rather rushed, I hope the topic will pass and we can move on to the last four digits of my social security number or my city of birth because this conversation usually occurs when I’m trying to talk to someone about my gas bill or credit card statement, and it hardly seems like the time to discuss my family heritage and naming traditions.
After my sister’s wedding a few weeks ago, I noticed that one
of her friends asked “So, how many last names do you have now?”
It’s true that all of the Mills girls have last names as their
middle names. I have my maternal
grandmother’s maiden name, my middle sister has my paternal grandmother’s
maiden name and my baby sister ended up with my mother’s aunt’s married name.
(My mother’s own maiden name is Stubbs, and I thank her for leaving that one of
out of the naming equation.) If all goes well, we’ll each have three, and only
three, last names before all is said and done (knock on wood).
I use Fain often in my own life because Mills tends to be a lot
(a lot) more common in the U.S. population than other surnames, and even though
“Laurel” is a little on the unusual side, I decided many moons ago that I would
rather be laurelfain via e-mail than LaurelMills27 or LMills4206. After that
fateful choice, it just kind of stuck. (My guy friends especially seem to enjoy
calling out “Laurel Fain” to get my attention.)
Also, with there being the other writing Laurel Mills, I figure
Fain is a good distinguishing factor to throw in there somewhere.
Nothing bothers me about my middle name – other than having to
answer lots of questions – and I’ve come to accept it just fine. I say “accept”
because probably unlike the Sarah Elizabeths, Jennifer Claires and Christine
Annes of the world, I spent the first five years of my life thinking I had a
very different middle name.
Maybe it was a hearing thing, maybe it had something to do with
pronunciation or maybe it was the simple fact that I couldn’t read or write
yet, but until I was five, I thought that my middle name was “Fame.”
Now, “Fame” was a middle name I could get behind. Not only did
it seem to destine me for greatness, but having grown up during the time of a
certain very popular Debbie Allen –led TV show, I felt like my name allowed me
to personally share in the show’s success.
There was no song I loved more than the movie and TV show’s
theme. “Fame! I’m going to live forever! I’m going to learn how to fly!”
My little tone-deaf self sang it again, and again, and again.
As far as I was concerned, it was the greatest song ever, and I had the greatest
name ever.
So, you can probably also imagine my disappointment when my mom
asked me why I was so enamored with the theme song from a show I don’t think I
ever got to watch. “Because it’s my name,” I said, sure, confident and proud.
“What’s your middle name?” she said.
“Fame,” I said. “I’m Laurel Fame Mills.” (I really thought she
should have already known the answer to that one.)
“Oh honey,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re middle name
isn’t ‘Fame.’ It’s ‘Fain.’ From your grandmother.”
Once the initial shock wore off, crestfallen, I found myself
asking the same question I’ve heard so often in the 25 years since, “Fain?!?!
What’s a Fain?”
