E.A.R. (Unusual Nomenclature)

E.A.R. (Unusual Nomenclature)

"The baby simply must be given a name!" exclaimed one of the ladies, wide eyed, as she sipped iced tea on the veranda.

The elegant vacationers, bedecked in wide crinolined skirts, frills and lace, were alarmed by the infant's lack of appellation.

"Surely he should be given two at least?"

"The child is six months old and will soon be on the move. He will need a name to respond to when you call," declared the matron from Arlington, Massachusetts decisively, staring directly at his mother.

Mary, gazed down at the child with his large dark eyes, and felt a pang of shame. She knew that this was true, but she had grown used to referring to "the baby" and could not summon the strength or interest to call him anything else. However, she was already experienced in raising two boys and understood the usefulness of a name, when uttered in the correct tone: stern to control boisterous mischief-making or gentle to soothe their fractiousness. Yet even now she was exhausted from her difficult confinement and had little interest in the child. To her this indifference was understandable: he was a late and unexpected arrival to the family and had not been born a girl. A daughter would at least have provided Mary with some consolation.

The party of holiday makers was seated on the piazza of a white clapboarded summer house. The Maine coastline before them was stark and beautiful at this time of year: all craggy promontories and wild blue expanses of sea and sky.

The ladies deliberated and it was decided that the soulful eyed infant's name would be chosen by lottery. And so, each of them pondered, and wrote, and placed a suggestion into a gay beribboned summer hat.

A gentleman strolled onto the porch to admire the view and was commandeered by his wife to make the selection. He closed his eyes, reached into the bonnet's crown and fished out a scrap of paper.

"Edwin," he announced to the expectantly waiting ladies.

Mary felt immediately regretful that she had agreed to such an unpredictable game of chance for the naming of her youngest son, but soon shook off this feeling. The lottery had produced a result too close to her husband's own name, Edward, which was likely to cause confusion.

The woman from Arlington insisted that a middle name was also required and the choice of her home town was eventually settled upon.

"Edwin Arlington Robinson."

Mary winced at the name, so full of ponderous syllables: it offended her poetic sensibilities.

"That's one heck of a name," thought the man from Massachusetts, as he descended the veranda steps and strolled towards the windswept ocean.