So I’ve got this book, “1000 Writing Prompts”. It’s been super beneficial when I’m stuck in a rut. I asked my friend to pick a number. Immediately, “Seven.”

My favorite.

#7. How were you named? If you feel that your name is boring and the story behind it equally so, make up a name and come up with an interesting story behind that.

I honestly don’t know how I came by Amelia Marie or Amy, either one. I also can’t believe I’ve never written about it. But I haven’t.

I reckon Amy is a common nickname for Amelia, even though Rhonda said if she had named me Amelia and people insisted on calling me Amy, she’d pinch their little heads off. I think I chose to go by Amy when I started school because I had a hard time making the “e”. I got to be lazy before I ever got started good. What I don’t understand is why we didn’t spell it Ami, because that would have been my initials, and also a bit perkier. I remember mom often telling me it was a good thing I was born a girl, because if I had been a boy, she would have had to named me Maynard, after my dad. I can think of nothing more mortifying. I made the mistake of repeating this to my then-friend Jena, who promptly told it all over the Co-op because, let’s face it, it’s hilarious. It stuck. There are a select few former Co-op employees who still call me Maynard: Bobby Joe Cole 430, Bob Huskey, Pink, Hobbs, Watson, & Robbie Houser. One day, my mother visited me at work and overheard some of the guys teasing me.

“Why do they call you that?”

I looked at her incredulously. “Because I made the mistake of telling them that’s what you were gonna name me if I had been a boy.”

She looked horrified. “I would never! That’s an awful name!”

And yet, here we are, over twenty years later, and I’m still stuck with it.

I didn’t like Amelia Marie for the longest. It just seemed pretentious. But as I’ve gotten older I like it much better, and realize that even though it’s a flowery, romantic name, it’s a heckuva lot better than what some people are strapped with. If I’d keep my mouth shut, I could probably pass off as a presentable lady and not a hillbilly. Alas, I am what I am. And there’s no chance of me keeping my mouth shut.

I remember once when I was very young, I was complaining about my name to Uncle Dale, who was, of course, poking the bear. “It’s not funny! I sound like a pilgrim ship! The Nina, The Pinta, The Amelia Marie!!” He thought this was absolutely hilarious, and got to calling me Pilgrim from that day forward. It didn’t help I was a pilgrim in a school play around that time, either.

This photo hung on his workbench as long as I can remember. When he passed, I was down there looking for something and realized my picture wasn’t hanging in its usual spot. I got to digging around and became a little upset when I couldn’t locate it. I did find my high school graduation announcement, which was baffling, since I graduated in 1997 and that house wasn’t built until 2001. Anyway, a few months later, we were in the safe hunting some documents and came across a Ziploc bag with an envelope inside. Within the envelope was a picture of Brenda in a bathing suit leaned up against the GTO, and this one of me 🥰 He’d just been keeping it safe.

The Pilgrim lives on, as I still call myself that reciting stories or repeating words of wisdom I heard over the years.

And now you know the story of the Pilgrim, Amelia Marie.

Love from Appalachia,

~Amy