Peter By Any Other Name

I came across a nice little blog this morning (namely Marly), and a project called “Name Stories.” I enjoyed hearing how Sabrina got her name even if I have no idea who Sabrina is.  I suspect there are a lot of quaint, and pathos filled stories about people with the right or wrong names.

My own story isn’t totally unique, but on reflection I have to say that my name probably has a fair bit to do with my attitude about the world.  You see I was named after both my grandfathers.

Peter Malinowski and Peter Pazucha were both Polish immigrants. They arrived here in the 1910′s, off the boat, with an eagerness to make this new land their own.  In fact all four of my grandparents were immigrants; and of the four of them I only heard my maternal grandmother ever talk about what she left behind in Poland.  For them the new world was a new beginning and they were not interested in looking back.

Peter Malinowski lived in Milwaukee, so he wasn’t quite the cosmopolitan man that Peter Pazucha was.  He owned a couple duplexes in Milwaukee, and a cottage at Moose Lake (near Pewaukee).  He fathered three girls, Violet, Clara, and Helen.  From all accounts he was a tender guy, even though he worked in the casting area of Falk Corporation and died of a heart attack in his 40′s — 2 years before I was born.

Peter Pazucha lived most of his life in Chicago and the Chicago suburb of Evergreen Park.  He was a baker and a barber. A friend of his wanted him to invest as a partner in a new-fangled style bread: with lots of air in it and not a lot of body to the dough.  They planned on calling it Continental Baking– but gramps wanted nothing to do with that stuff, he didn’t like the flavor or texture of the bread and so when Wonder Bread came out he missed the opportunity to be a rich man.  Oh well…..

He did well enough though.  He owned the 6 barber shop in the basement of  The Fair Store in downtown Chicago.  During a time when businessmen got their hair cut weekly, his art deco shop did good business.

When I came along there wasn’t a lot of discussion about what to call me.  Me being a boy, and with both grandparents being named Peter, and it being the late 1940′s — I was named after the both of them.  It’s a name I have carried with pride:  not goofy, a little bit distinguished (even if I am not), a good solid name to go through life with.  And a whole lot better than going through life being called “Sue.”

The unintended consequence has been quite simple.  I cannot escape the fact that I have a history.  I am NOT someone without roots, even though roots do not mold me.  All my life I have been breaking out of molds — but I never go too far from the broken shards.  My choices of career, were heartbreak to my mom who would have loved to have a son with a more “ordinary” job.  And yet, in their own way my career was a great joy to her because it validated her faith and made her feel good about what she and dad put “into” me — even if I’m no earthy good.  It was a strange thing — and I have to say that even today I look back on that one aspect of my life with uncertainty.  I would not have done anything differently — but I wonder if there might have been some way to be true to myself while giving her a little more of something she would have loved.

I have always felt and known the importance of connecting across generational lines.  When I was in ministry I taught the importance of mentoring; and I lived it.  I cannot escape the reality that my grand-fathers shaped who I am; and I now realize the importance of sharing who I am with those who come behind.  I have always loved being around little kids – even when they are at ages I don’t communicate well with.  During my photography years I loved the fact that my work brought me into contact with a variety of people — almost always younger than myself.  Having a studio in the same building you live in makes it seem less like a formal setting and I often spent hours talking with models about life, their religious faith, and the spirits of the world.  That connection with those younger than myself has not only seemed important, it has been important.

So, I guess I’m quite happy with the name I was given.  That’s a good thing.  I can’t imagine not liking the name that defines you to the world.