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Keeping the Spirit

On Friday night, I learned my limitation. I took ten pre-teengirls to the ice rink--along with little brother Victor, who hadnever ice-skated in his life.

At fortysomething, I had no deep-seated desire to skate; thegirls afterall would skate by themselves and completely ignoreme. I was cold. I was sore from my early-morning tennis game andhalf-hour workout with weights. In tiny Ridgefield, Connecticutin January, ice skating on a Friday night is as good as it gets:the place was packed. Clearly two hundred children and hormone-impaired middleschoolers were lacing up, while little Victorbegged me to skate alongside him, at this never-before-seen rink, with an almost-desperate look on his face.

Of course I had to oblige. "How tough could this be anyway?" Ithought as I snapped on my rented skates. "I work out everyday,"I reassured myself. I skated as a kid. We'll take it slowly. Ilook the part, what with my jeans, turtleneck, and down vest. Imean...I could pass for one of these kids if you caught me at the right angle!

We got onto the ice, Victor holding my hand with a look of "Can I do this, Mom?" and me with an "it's-like-riding-a-bike-you-never-forget-how" assurance.

The first time around was, well, awkward would be anunderstatement. I was wobbly. Victor held me up. When I asked him how he was doing, he was clearly in control. "I rollerblade,remember, Mom?" Oh yeah...that.

Dozens of wiry boys...barely as high as my kneecap...who hadclearly been skating since they could crawl...zigzagged in andout of my path like cockroaches when caught in the dark by a quickly-turned-on light. Whippersnappers! In and out they skated, so fast and with such precision that it took my misted-breath away.

Did I mention the strobe lights? Just when I thought it was safeto look down and see where I was going, the lights playing on the ice only made me dizzy. I was reassured by my assessment when Victor exclaimed: "Mom, don't look down! You'll throw up!"

By the third or fourth time around, I was feeling much moreconfident. But when a pre-teen girl caught sight of a hottie andabruptly skated backwards...directly in front of me...I wasknocked smack on the ice. I landed on my wrists, and fullyrealized how hard the ice really is...and how much more brittlemy bones are at my age...when I picked myself up with a half-laugh and an under-my-breath grunt of "I hope he was worth it."

We were great, Victor and I. He took to the ice like a duck towater and passed me whenever he could, checking in with me everyfew dozen yards to make sure I was still alive. The second crashwas my swan song; I exited to the slightly warmer viewing roomwith ice on my butt and two clearly bruised wrists, totallyticked off that these kids had gotten the best of me.

Five minutes later, I reminded myself why I was there in thefirst place: I had a 9-year-old son who needed me, for crying out loud! It was back to the ice for another half-hour. Round and round we went, avoiding the whippersnappers and pre-teen girls with a vengeance. My daughter and her nine friends? Forgetaboutem. Caught in their own little world-on-ice, checkingout each face that whirled past them, I was only the night-timedriver and MasterCard-holder.

The evening ended with hot cocoa drunk by giggling, rosy-cheekedgirls. Victor, encouraged by my proddings of "You're doing sogreat!" now had his sights set on ice hockey. And my left wrist,though clearly black and blue from a dozen broken blood vessels,was not much worse for the wear.

Will we do that again? Absolutely. Cold air, oxygen to the brain, rosy cheeks, laughter, friends, bonding with my kids, and a sense of community in this New England town of mine are just too compelling.

Looking like a fool when I fall? Black-and-blue reminders of mymiddle age? Bruises to my ego? Well...that's all part ofmotherhood.

Keeping the spirit of the holidays after the holidays haveclearly passed is one of the challenges of being a Rocket Mom.Keep your eyes wide open for opportunities throughout the nextcouple winter months to create special memories with your kids.Be it snow-skiing, ice skating, or sledding; or creating uniquepottery at your local paint bar...be prepared for giggles and memory-making...and check your ego at the door.

posted by nwwhimy @ 9:11 PM 0 comments

What's in a Name? Part 1 - Surname Meanings

Do you know what your surname means and how it was acquired? To be sure, there is an intriguing history associated with each name. The challenge for genealogists and family historians is getting to the root of the name so that a true meaning can be determined. Simply put, the surname you bear nowadays may be considerably different than the original spelling your ancestors used centuries ago. Thus, it is the spelling inconsistency by which names were altered over the span of many years that presents itself as the obstacle to overcome in determining the true meaning of the name.

It's also important to understand that, until fairly recently in our history, surnames were optional, or didn't exist at all. Although the actual start point varies by region, prior to the start of the 17th century, researching individuals (unless royalty or families of some importance) becomes very difficult. It is at about this time when people, outside of towns and cities, only began to use surnames with some regularity. Before that, most people only had first names.

Surnames were established for a number of reasons. First, and foremost, they were needed to distinguish the multiple Toms, Dicks and Harrys from one another. Surnames were used to identify people with respect to their parents and grandparents. For Germans, such surnames may be prefixed with VON (of, or of the). Surnames were created to identify people by their occupations, such as BECKER (baker); FISCHER (fisher); KRAMER (merchant); and SCHNEIDER (dressmaker). Surnames also associated people with a locality or geographic region, with surname endings such as BURG (castle); BRUCK (bridge); FURT (ford); or BERG (mountain). You will find that the aforementioned surname circumstances applied in most countries and across most ethnical backgrounds.

My surname, now written as YAKEL, was originally spelled JCKEL and/or JECKEL by my Rheinish German ancestors over 3 centuries ago. The name JECKL (as well as JCKEL, JOCKEL and other variants) means coming from Jakob (Jacob), with the suffix EL added as a diminutive nickname form.

My oldest ancestor, Joannes JECKEL, was born about 1650. His name literally means, Joannes (John), coming from Jakob. It is not unreasonable to presume that one of his ancestors, perhaps his father, or grandfather, was simply known by family and friends as Jakob. In time, when Joannes was born, he may have been referred to as Joannes JECKEL literally, "Joannes, son of Jakob", to distinguish him from his father or other relative. Joannes, in turn, named his children, adopting the JECKEL moniker as his surname. Such was one common method for creating surnames. The rest, as they say, is history!

Even if you only have limited knowledge of your familys origins, it is quite possible to determine the meaning of your surname. An Internet search will quickly produce many websites and references to aid you in this quest.

Best of luck as you trace your history!

This is the first article, "Surname Meanings", in the 3-part series, "What's in a Name?" by Joseph Yakel. Please visit Ezine@rticles at http://www.ezinearticles.com for the second two parts of the series: Part 2 Surname Spelling Variations", and Part 3 "Surname Landmarking".

These articles are intended to provide some general knowledge about genealogy, tracing family history, and introduce the reader to the surname meanings and how they can be determined through the research process.

posted by nwwhimy @ 1:12 PM 0 comments