When I married my husband I had a decision to make. Would I take his surname or retain my maiden name? I opted to keep my maiden name for several reasons, one being its tie to my heritage. My husband and I are comfortable with this decision although I have encountered a few raised eyebrows when people learned my name differed from his. When our children were born, there was no debate over whose surname they would carry. They share their father’s. Naturally, I've often been mistakenly addressed by his surname but, unless there is a specific reason (such as a legal reference or expected long-standing relationship with a person), I rarely feel compelled to correct the misconception. Not having a name that conveys a tacit relationship with my husband and children requires us to explicitly acknowledge our relationship when meeting others. There are times I find this cumbersome and question my decision, but I like my maiden name and the connection to a part of my legacy it communicaates .
Nonetheless, my attachment to our family name is a bit ironic. When I opted to preserve my maiden name, I was unaware of how few generations had carried it or of how it came to replace the patronym of our immigrant ancestor. Although I attached importance to the name engraved on my gg-grandfather's tombstone, he did not consider it his family name. Starkey was my father’s and grandfather’s surname, but it was not the patronym that travelled from Norway to America with my gg-grandfather, nor was it the patronym by which his son was known during childhood. (1)
Being of Norwegian ancestry, it is not uncommon to bear a surname other than the patronym brought from the homeland by one's immigrant ancestor. In many cases, the name change occurred through the immigrant's offspring. The son or daughter took as surname a patronym derived from the immigrant’s Christian name, following the naming convention of Nordic people, and this became the surname inherited by later generations according to American conventions. Thus American descendants of Sevat Knudson could come to carry a surname of Sevatson.
Another, slightly less common surname change occurred when names were recorded in American documents by clerks unfamiliar with Nordic naming conventions on hehalf of immigrants unschooled in American laws and conventions and struggling with a new language. In Norway, a man was known by three names: a Christian name, a patronym and a byname, usually the name of the farm or district in which he was born. This byname was intended to be useful in differentiating two individuals with identical names. In America, when asked to provide his "full name" a Norwegian immigrant would likely give these three names. In recording his name, an American clerk, not recognizing the third name as a byname, would enter the three as first, middle and last names. The immigrant might then adopt the byname as a legal surname either to validate the document's legitimacy or to acknowledge the family's claim to a Norwegian farm. (Farm ownership conveyed elevated status, if not wealth, in Norway.) This is how I came to be a Starkey.
... continued in part 2 ...
postscript 7 November 2009 -- In research since the above post, I've learned that Norwegian's attach elevated status to farm ownership (even though it does not ensure elevated financial status), so I've edited my post to reflect that information.
______________________________________________________________________
(1) According to John Follesdal in his online arcitle, the given name was the name with greatest significance in rural Norway until the 20th century. The patronym and byname were used to distinguish between two or more individuals with the same given name. For more information, see Mr. Follesdal's online article, Norwegian naming practices, hosted by rootsweb.
No comments:
Post a Comment