What’s in a Name? Quite Possibly, Everything.

The Stories Behind the Names

According to AncestryDNA(R) I come from ten different ancestral regions. None of which include the Scandinavian countries. Yet, my name – Kirsten, or Kirsi – is of Scandinavian origin. Won’t that be confusing to future descendants researching the family tree?

Indeed, one of the first questions I often get when introducing myself is if I’m Scandinavian. With my dark hair and olive complexion, I feel like the answer should be obvious. Truth be told, though, I’ve always felt my name, was a bit out of place amongst the more common names in my immediate family. This has led me to ponder the stories behind the names of my ancestors, particularly those that stand out from the crowd. What were their parents thinking when they chose such unique monikers? What hopes and dreams did they imbue within those names?

Names – or at least partial names – are almost always the first piece of information we know about an ancestor, and, whether we realize it or not, we may be making some initial assessments about who our ancestors were based solely on their name.

Among the unique names that stand out in my family tree is that of my great-grand Aunt, Ludmila (Petrasek) Kubes. Born in 1891 in Minnesota to Czech immigrants, Frank and Anna (Bouska), Ludmila, or "Lottie" as she was known, was a beacon of strength in her large family. Three of her four older siblings had died before she was even born. While her siblings bore familiar names like Mary, John, and Anna, Ludmila's name stood out. It's a name steeped in Slavic history, derived from "lud" meaning "people" and "mila" meaning "dear, love," evoking images of a beloved figure cherished by her community.

This choice of name likely held deep significance for Lottie’s mother. Perhaps, amidst the challenges of settling in a new country, she yearned for a connection to her homeland, especially after suffering the loss of most of her previous children. Naming her daughter Ludmila could have been a way to honor her Czech heritage and the saints who guided her ancestors. And indeed, Ludmila lived up to the spirit of her name. After the tragic loss of her mother, Lottie selflessly stepped in to raise her younger siblings, embodying the love and compassion her name implied.

Her youngest brother, Alois Frank Petrasek, born moments before their mother's death, carried a name equally evocative. "Alois" translates to "famous warrior," a name that seems almost prophetic given the adversity he faced in his short life. He miraculously survived his own birth when his mother did not, and later a devastating train wreck. Despite dire predictions from his doctors, he rebuilt his life, opened a restaurant, and sadly unexpectedly died in a diving accident at the young age of 23. Though his life was cut short, Alois's life of perseverance was much like a warrior.

In another branch of my family tree, I came across the intriguing name of Love McDaniel, my 4x great-grandfather. Born in North Carolina in 1806, his name immediately piqued my curiosity. While virtues like Hope, Faith, and Grace were occasionally bestowed upon girls in certain religious circles, I had never encountered "Love" as a given name, especially for a man. This unique choice begs the question: what inspired his parents to name him Love?

Was it a reflection of the deep affection they held for their firstborn son? Did they hope to instill in him a spirit of compassion and kindness? Perhaps the name was a tribute to a beloved family member or a cherished friend. Or perhaps, as some sources suggest, the name Love, when given to a boy, was believed to bring him good fortune and success.

Uncovering the "why" behind these unique names often feels like solving a historical puzzle. While we can only speculate about the reasons behind the names Ludmila, Alois, and Love, the story behind my own name is a bit clearer, though no less intriguing.

As a teenager, my mother and her best friend were captivated by the movie "The Days of Wine and Roses," which featured a character named Kirsi. My mother, smitten with the name, declared to her friend, "Someday, if I have a daughter, I'm going to name her Kirsi."

1962 original movie poster for “The Days of Wine and Roses”.

Years later, when my mother was pregnant, she was still determined to name me Kirsi. Wanting to ensure the correct spelling, she phoned the local library where a surprising twist was revealed: the name she had so cherished was actually "Kirsten." And so, I was born Kirsten, though my family, recognizing the original inspiration, has called me Kirsi from day one. And to be honest, that’s what I consider my name to be.

While my name’s uniqueness has always been a source of pride, it hasn’t been without its challenges. As a student, getting new teachers and classmates to pronounce it correctly was a constant challenge, and mispronunciations – both intentional and unintentional – are a daily occurrence even today. Studies have shown that hearing your name activates parts of your brain linked to identity and self-perception, and chronic mispronunciation, according to some researchers, can undermine identity and even be experienced as a microaggression.¹ Looking back, I can see how those moments have contributed to who I am today.

Aside from our unusual and/or hard-to-pronounce names, Ludmila, Alois, Love, and I are a genealogist's dream. Unique names like ours can make an ancestor easier to track across census records, city directories, probate files, and even social media! True, researchers need to be aware of variations that could result from phonetic spellings – think of how my name might be (mis)spelled on a Starbucks cup! – transcription errors, or even spelling modifications over time. I’ve seen my ancestor’s names spelled differently across various documents, and my parents dabbled with different spellings of my name before landing on what it is.

Whether it's a name as familiar as John or Mary or as striking as Ludmila, Alois, or Kirsi, each name offers a unique glimpse into the past. As I continue on my genealogy path, I plan to document not just the names of my ancestors (and descendants), but also the stories and significance behind them. These stories, carefully preserved and shared, will provide invaluable insights for future generations, allowing them to connect with their ancestors (us!) on a deeper, more meaningful level.

Hear how to say my name:

Have you come across any unusual names in your family tree and uncovered the “why” behind them? Why did you name your children what you did? Do you know why you were named what you were?

1. Dali, Salma et al. “Say My Name: Understanding the Power of Names, Correct Pronunciation, and Personal Narratives.” MedEdPORTAL : the journal of teaching and learning resources vol. 18 11284. 29 Nov. 2022, doi:10.15766/mep_2374-8265.11284 )

Carmody, Dennis P, and Michael Lewis. “Brain activation when hearing one's own and others' names.” Brain research vol. 1116,1 (2006): 153-8. doi:10.1016/j.brainres.2006.07.121