Whither-ing Remarks

One of the least important subjects treated with at last weekend's Retreat was our name, Grabham. Where does it come from? What does it mean? Is it a family name? Anyone who has a name that is something a tad spicier than John or Mary is used to being peppered (and assaulted) by such questions.

We were named, ostensibly, for our great-grandfather, who had in turn been given his mother's maiden name as a first name - apparently she had brought some considerable fortune into the marriage with her. Sadly, that fortune had quite vanished by the time we came along. Or so we had always understood. It wasn't until recently that we were given a rather different explanation.

According to Great-Aunt Margot, his father - Great-Great-Grandfather Merriam had been one of Brigham Young's fifty-six children. He was brought up by his mother, after his father's death and her remarriage, in a small (dare one say incestuous little) community in the hinterlands of Utah. It was there he, too, followed in the polygamous practice of the day and, although he never managed even to come close to his esteemed father's record of fifty-five wives, he did marry or "seal for eternity" or "seal for life" some thirteen women - (the finer shades of polygamy show it to be a very complicated business indeed) - and of those thirteen more than a few were rather young by today's standards. In addition to his predilection for plural marriage, Great-Great-Grandfather Merriam was known for his rather bawdy sense of humor. "Hence," declared Great-Aunt Margot over a slice of her infamous cherry cheesecake last Arbor Day, "your Great-Grandfather's full name: Grabham Merriam Young."

Now then Great-Aunt Margot has always been a bit of a wag herself - and well known to tipple a sherry or two after dinner (she left Utah in the twenties with husband number two and moved to San Francisco and into devout Episcopalianism) - so perhaps her version of The Facts might be considered just as suspect as the earlier story.

And yet over a delicious cherry cheesecake and a glass (or three) of an impudent little sherry almost anything seems possible.

Isn't Family History fascinating? Tales that might be horrifying or scandalous had they involved oneself or one's parents or grandparents - become less so as time moves on, becoming almost quaint and charming after a few decades turn into century.

Or so we can only hope, given Certain Goings-On featuring the current crop of relatives.