It's tragic, in a way, that we can only accommodate one family line in our last names, or at most two. I lived for a time in Puerto Rico, where it is common practice for children to carry the last names of both parents. When I received my Puerto Rican driver's license, I was surprised to see four names on it: Erik Richard Jacobsen Pendleton. It was nice to be reminded that I am equal parts of my father and mother.
Of course, it goes well beyond that. You could call me Erik Richard Jacobsen Jensen Marshall Kirk Pendleton Rhead Allred Parkinson, but then you would know that my Scandinavian façade is hiding a whole lot of English blood. And the fate of Eddie K. Brown, that my father used to sing to me, suggests that a long name can be a perilous thing.
So we're stuck with choosing.
It doesn't work for everyone, but I like the approach of some friends of mine. They combined his name (Greenwood) and hers (Fields) and coined a new name: Greenfield. Something fitting about becoming one in that way - the necessary giving and receiving of marriage reflected in the family name.
Whatever our names tell us, it's good to be reminded that a marriage brings together family trees that extend back for ages. And that we must make of those combined heritages something of our own.
When I first wrote this poem (2001), I don't believe I was thinking of these as family trees that we were planting. But I guess they were. The seed of a later poem was planted here as well.
I planted my tree next to yours,
On a calm, bright bank, where life's river roars,
To share the selfsame soil and sun,
The first to shade the other one –
And when the blazing sun reversed,
The other one to shade the first.
With deeper roots and broader reach,
Together they grew – protected each.
Seasons passed and seedlings came
To share their ground and sun the same.
Beneath the watch of the older two,
These eager young ones quickly grew
And added strength to the cheerful stand
Of trees with the river close at hand.
How blessed are we that our trees found
A place to share a piece of ground?
Our sacred grove will flourish there
On the river bank in the sun and air.
You planted your tree next to mine,
And now they intertwine.
