I'm Going to Learn How to Fly

I get a lot of questions about my middle name.

“What was that you said?”

“Fain.”

“Fain?”

“Yes, it’s just like ‘rain’ but with an ‘f’ instead of an ‘r.’”

“Fain? F-A-I-N. Really?”

“Yep, Fain.”

“That’s interesting. [Beat.] What’s a Fain?”

When I’m not in a hurry, I explain that it’s a family name.When I am rather rushed, I hope the topic will pass and we can move on to thelast four digits of my social security number or my city of birth because thisconversation usually occurs when I’m trying to talk to someone about my gasbill or credit card statement, and it hardly seems like the time to discuss myfamily heritage and naming traditions.

After my sister’s wedding a few weeks ago, I noticed that oneof her friends asked “So, how many last names do you have now?”

It’s true that all of the Mills girls have last names as theirmiddle names.  I have my maternalgrandmother’s maiden name, my middle sister has my paternal grandmother’smaiden name and my baby sister ended up with my mother’s aunt’s married name.(My mother’s own maiden name is Stubbs, and I thank her for leaving that one ofout of the naming equation.) If all goes well, we’ll each have three, and onlythree, last names before all is said and done (knock on wood).

I use Fain often in my own life because Mills tends to be a lot(a lot) more common in the U.S. population than other surnames, and even though“Laurel” is a little on the unusual side, I decided many moons ago that I wouldrather be laurelfain via e-mail than LaurelMills27 or LMills4206. After thatfateful choice, it just kind of stuck. (My guy friends especially seem to enjoycalling out “Laurel Fain” to get my attention.)

Also, with there being the other writing Laurel Mills, I figureFain is a good distinguishing factor to throw in there somewhere.

Nothing bothers me about my middle name – other than having toanswer lots of questions – and I’ve come to accept it just fine. I say “accept”because probably unlike the Sarah Elizabeths, Jennifer Claires and ChristineAnnes of the world, I spent the first five years of my life thinking I had avery different middle name.

Maybe it was a hearing thing, maybe it had something to do withpronunciation or maybe it was the simple fact that I couldn’t read or writeyet, but until I was five, I thought that my middle name was “Fame.”

Now, “Fame” was a middle name I could get behind. Not only didit seem to destine me for greatness, but having grown up during the time of acertain very popular Debbie Allen –led TV show, I felt like my name allowed meto personally share in the show’s success.

There was no song I loved more than the movie and TV show’stheme. “Fame! I’m going to live forever! I’m going to learn how to fly!”

My little tone-deaf self sang it again, and again, and again.As far as I was concerned, it was the greatest song ever, and I had the greatestname ever.

So, you can probably also imagine my disappointment when my momasked me why I was so enamored with the theme song from a show I don’t think Iever got to watch. “Because it’s my name,” I said, sure, confident and proud.

“What’s your middle name?” she said.

“Fame,” I said. “I’m Laurel Fame Mills.” (I really thought sheshould have already known the answer to that one.)

“Oh honey,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re middle nameisn’t ‘Fame.’ It’s ‘Fain.’ From your grandmother.”

Once the initial shock wore off, crestfallen, I found myselfasking the same question I’ve heard so often in the 25 years since, “Fain?!?!What’s a Fain?”