What’s In a Name?

With writing tablet and pencil in hand, I went off to my first day in school in 1948. My first grade teacher, a family friend, was Mrs. Williams. She taught at the Multnomah Grade School (Multnomah, an Indian name, is a suburb of Portland Oregon). When I got to my class room she told us all to take a seat for roll call.

“As you hear your name, raise your hand and say ‘here'...Johnny."  A boy’s arm goes up, “Here” “Mary” A girls arm goes up, “Here” Finally she comes to my name, “Brian” I did nothing. Looking up from her roll book she asks, “Brian why didn’t you raise you hand?” “My name is not Brian...its O'Brian.” “Who told that?” “Every time mommy calls me she says: ‘Oh, Brian come here or Oh Brian don’t do that!” Smiling, as she knew of my mischievous childhood, she answered, “No, here at school you’re not O’Brian, your just Brian!”

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