Three Names and a Complicated Camera

As frantic as the floor of the NYSE on the zenith of trading days, the Manchester room (where Eamonn was born) seemed like a whirlwind of family coming in to to see the littlest Taugher. And to make matters worse, I had just bought the camera we were using to shoot everything two days prior as a birthday gift for Nicole (the amateur photographer). I can play drums and program synths and stuff... but cameras are not my forte. (Focus? What do you mean "focus"?) And then, to add insult to injury, we didn't have a memory card gonzo enough to hold these massive pictures. We just nabbed the card outta Nicole's point-and-shoot on our way to the hospital which was choc-full of photos from baby showers and Christmas, none of which had been uploaded to either of our computers. So when you combine this with the notion that everyone wanted a shot with the baby, and justifiably so, it made for a data management nightmare. Every time I turned around someone else seemed to be posing with him, and I was trying to keep a check list in my head of all the people that needed to get their photos taken, while trying to keep an eye on the limited amount of space I had available on this rinky-dinky card. To future fathers everywhere: be mindful of how much space you have on your memory cards, and for Pete's sake, MAKE A PHYSICAL CHECKLIST SO NO ONE GETS LEFT OUT!!!

So, after I ran out of space on the camera's memory card, and after the Castillo's made their way back to the greater LA area (what a day for them... coming all the way down, and then turning around to go home, all in one day!), Nicole and I, with the help of Bubbe, Papa Taugher, Uncle Ryan, Crystal, and Grandma Lisa, made our way to the post-partum room. I don't think either Nicole or I had slept in 36 hours, aside from a little cat-nap here and there. Cell phones were buzzing like mad, hospital staff was in and out of the room all night, and Nicole and I got to sleep for a tad before tackling the next major step in parenthood: The name.

The next morning, we woke up to our new family, and the daunting task of naming our boy. Over breakfast, we got out "the list" and reviewed the boy names we liked. We couldn't choose, and had to send the lady in charge of the birth certificates away, because we hadn't even begun to consider all the information she needed on those four purple pages. After a busy morning with hospital staff, we finally had the afternoon to figure things out. Eamonn (the Gaelic form of Edmund) was always at the top of our list because it meant "Prosperous Protector." We also thought it would be nice to give our son a name that came with no family history or ties so he could make his name his very own. None of the other names considered in the final hours of a nameless "Baby-T" seemed to gel with our nameless wonder's little persona.




The only other really famous Eamonn was an Irish revolutionary, "Eamon de Valera." And because he was a highly controversial character in Irish history, we certainly didn't name our son after him. Some say that de Valera's Christian name was something other than Eamon and that he changed it in order to appear more ethnically Irish when, in fact, he was born in New York to a Spanish father and an Irish mother. He was an Irish Nationalist, an Irish Patriot, and an Irish Freedom Fighter, but he was also said to be a shrewd politician and a fierce Catholic. He was thought to be responsible for some shady deals and some back-stabbing politicking that got some other Irish Loyalists killed. Basically, not the kind of guy I would really name my son after, which is why we used a more traditional spelling than he did. Our son has two "N"s, where Mister de Valera had only one. But I digress...



So we had a name, and much like mine, it is an awkward one to pronounce. I feel as if this will help the boy build some character... I know that being called things like "Say-un," "SEE-anne," and "SEEN" helped me to learn how to speak up for myself and correct the people who were unfamiliar with the Gaelic spelling of "Shawn." And believe me, there were many of these folks in LAUSD in the early 80's. (And for the record, the boy's name is pronounced "AY-mun." The letter "A" followed by "mun." Like "Daemon" without the "D").



And then came the easier part: A middle name. On our first date, Nicole and I established that our maternal grandfathers played humongous roles in our lives. Nicole saw her "Grampy," Yutaka, as a role-model. His compassionate, patient, kind-hearted soul was ever-devoted to his grand-daughter's well being. When I did get to meet him for a brief time before his passing, I can say that the connection Nicole and Grampy had was just as strong, deep, and loving as the relationship I had with my Pop Soule. It was a truly moving sight to see; being in proximity to that love was refreshing to the human spirit. Just as Nicole learned great and wonderful things from the example set by Yutaka, I learned a lot about what it was to be an honest, forth-right, patient, and truly gentle man from my Pop Soule (which is where the "Robert" comes from).



So with two middle names to choose from, what were we to do? Not knowing if we were ever going to have another boy, we opted to give Eamonn two of his great grandfathers' names. It may sound like a tall order to fill, but I have faith in my son. If one noble and mighty name is good, then two is better, right? So it was settled, the boy's name was destined to be "Eamonn Yutaka Robert Taugher." His first name belongs solely to himself, his middle names are to remind him of some of the great men than have come before him, and his family name is tie it all together.