I have always been fascinated by the origins of things- little things, simple things, seemingly insignificant things- like the origins of people’s names.
My first name is Robert; my friends call me Bob. My last name is Tryanski, so strangers call me Bob. My middle name is Anthony, so my initials spell RAT, and because of that, I would prefer it if you just call me Bob.
My mother’s brother’s name is Robert; that’s how Robert became my first name. My father’s brother’s name is Anthony; that’s how Anthony became my middle name. My grandfather’s first name was Anthony, which is how Anthony became my father’s brother’s first name. My brother’s name is Scott, and to this day, nobody in our family has an explanation.
My grandfather’s last name is Tryanski, but if you were to assume that’s because his father’s last name was Tryanski, you would be wrong. My family’s last name was created by a government clerk.
When my great grandfather Trojanowczski landed at Ellis Island, an immigration officer changed our name forever, replacing Tro-jan-ow-cz-s-k-I with T-r-y-an-ski. I’m sure the guy probably thought he was making it simpler to spell and easier to pronounce, but it was no less intimidating, so you’re probably better off if you just call me Bob.
If you don’t know the story, you won’t know the origin; if you don’t know the origin, you won’t see the connection. Circle of life stuff- origins, connections- there is a reason for everything. And for so many of us, the most basic threads of our identity are tied directly to our ancestors and elders, our matriarchs and patriarchs, who they were, what they did, their hopes, their dreams, their talents and aspirations. They blaze a trail; they chart a course; they leave a legacy, and that legacy gets woven into our DNA.
Sometimes the connections are right in front of you, others are harder to discern. Let me see if I can give you an example. My Grandfather Tryanski was a gifted musician who played the accordion and I believe, that because of that, I have been unable to produce a biological child.
If you don’t know the story, you won’t see the connection. For you, accordion playing and a low sperm count might not seem like a perfect organic fit. That’s because your grandfather never played the accordion. For me, accordion playing and sterility fit together as naturally as Gore-tex and Velcro.
Now, for any of this to make sense, you need to have a basic understanding of what an accordion is and how an accordion works. If you look up accordion on Wikipedia, you will find the following definition, which based on Wikipedia’s submission guidelines, might have been written by Ted Kaszynski:
“The accordion is a box-shaped, musical instrument of the bellows-driven, free-reed, aerophone family. It is sometimes referred to as a squeezebox and is played by compressing or expanding, squeezing if you will, a bellows whilst pressing keys or buttons causing valves, called pallets, to open, which allows air to flow across strips of brass or steel, called reeds, that vibrate to produce sound inside the body.”
Musical instrument? Lethal weapon? I’ll report; you decide.