When an Indian woman has her baby they hand it to the father and he takes it out of the birthing tent to show the rest of the tribe. My mother told me that the first thing the father saw once he left the tent would be what he would name his child. That is why Indians have names like Sitting Bull and Running Coyote. Another version of this lie would have something to do with a dream or 'vision' that the father would have prior to the child being born. My poor father was in love with these legends and believed them until the end of his life.
When I was born my father was literally at a loss for words. He was full of feelings but he had no words to express them. I was named after an emotion that could not and had not yet been put into words. I was named for the feeling of satisfaction my father felt after having eaten turkey. I was named after the feeling that you get when you rub your two hands together that have spent an enormous amount of time in the bath. I was named for the peculiar and inviting smell of a burning fork.
When I was born there was this hurricane and the sound of flies.
