I found this story published last year in the online version of the Medina County Gazette... and of course, a failed to note the url Lots of names of early settlers here... I'd love to read the stories. Shirley Hulett San Diego History changes name popularity By JUDY TOTTS Religion Editor What am I after all but a child, pleas'd with the sound of my own name? repeating it over and over; I stand apart to hear -- it never tires me." -- Walt Whitman A name is the first gift we are given, something we wear for a lifetime. It may be a perfect fit, something we'd take out of the drawer or off the hanger every day if we could -- a neatly tailored suit, a favorite pair of jeans that turn a softer shade of blue each time we wash them. But a name also holds the possibility of being a bargain bin misnomer, something we think will look great, but in reality turns out to be either a too-large muumuu that slides off our shoulders or a pair of tight shoes into which we have to shoehorn our spirit. Names can anchor us in the past, an inheritance of ancestral names strung together like pearls -- or weigh heavy as the gravestones bearing their epitaphs. There always has been a certain magic in names -- the power to convey a positive or negative image -- or else why would we be so careful in selecting them for our children? We carry preconceived notions about the bearers of names. Some people come to hate their names so much, they change them or adopt a nickname. Henry might sound stodgy and maybe even a little dull or henpecked, but my Great Uncle Hank, whose given name was Henry, was a compact dynamo of a man who slammed cards down during heated pinochle games, enveloped in a cloud of smoke from the stumpy cigar clenched between his teeth. Paul Revere, the son of French Protestants, started life as Apollos Rivoire. I didn't hate my name, but when I started to write for publication, I used the initials of my first and middle names because I thought it gave my name a better flow, like a stream over smooth stones instead of water breaking against rocks thrust up from creek bed. Some names have remained steady favorites over the years, like Michael, Christopher, Joshua, Matthew and James for boys, Amanda, Sarah, Katherine, Emily and Jennifer for girls. In 1830, one out of every six girls was named Mary; by 1900, although still popular, it was one in 15. County histories and old issues of The Gazette bear this out, with good solid settlers George Pardee, John B. Young, Robert English and Joseph Andrew. Other sections read like biblical begets: Isaac R. Henry, Aaron Pardee, Jeremiah Clark, Abraham Morton, Job Snell and Moses Wright. But they brought distinct names, too, like Peregrine Pickle, who lived in Harrisville Township. Seth Blood practiced medicine in Brunswick and Booz Atherton was one of the first attorneys in the area. Salmon Warner "joined the Mormons and went with them to Salt Lake." Resin B. Simcox married Rebecca Heath. Captain Daniel Warner married Philecta E. Mills; their children were Horatio and Orpha. Settlers included Roswell Curtis, Pulaski C. Hard, Chapin Harris, Dio Lewis, Silas Swan, Ebenezer Harris, Bela Clark, Ulysses Young, Amasa Jerome and Lysander Hard. Philo Welton moved to the county from Waterbury, Conn., and Medwin Porter, not content with Ohio, pushed westward to California in 1850. It's more difficult to tell about women's names, since in so many instances, they are listed simply as someone's missus, as if they couldn't be individuals after marriage. A search turned up Harriet Warner, Polly Kirkum, Lamira Durham, Lydia Kremer, Elizabeth Blocker and Julia Loomis. Lodemia Sackett married Sherman Loomis after Julia died. Jerusha Simcox married John Brown. Wealthy Dye and Charity Turner were two founding members of the Congregational Church in Granger Township. Each name is a story, unfolding as we live, until they are written, finally, in stone. Walk through any graveyard, and the stories continue, for at least a little while -- who can help wondering what people were like who carried names like Lathrop Seymour and Gad Blakeslee, Marilla Point and Valentine Waltman? Who can resist speaking them like a charm or in amusement on a long summer evening? Totts can be reached electronically at [email protected] or by phone at 330-721-4063. Address mail to Judy Totts, The Gazette, 885 W. Liberty St., Medina 44256. ________________________________________________________________ GET INTERNET ACCESS FROM JUNO! Juno offers FREE or PREMIUM Internet access for less! Join Juno today! For your FREE software, visit: http://dl.www.juno.com/get/tagj.