Henry
The Eighth I Am
I
was once told if I ever had
a son and were to name him after
myself that I would burden this
child with a lack of individual
identity. The theory was that
by giving him my full name for
his own, he would forever struggle
with the comparisons between
himself and me. And since my
own life is, at times, lived
rather publicly, this would
be extremely unfair to my as-of-yet
unborn namesake. Besides, it
would make life at home really
confusing.
For
the record, I am Lee Totten
the Fourth. Well, Leon E.
Totten IV, but that only shows
up on credit cards and tax
forms. Most of the time I'm
not even Lee Totten IV as
much as simply Lee Four to
those who even know I'm one
in a series.
My
father is, naturally, Leon
E. Totten III, although he
spent most of his life being
called Leon Junior (pronounced
"Le-In" Junior). He's the
son of Leon E. Totten Jr,
known mostly as Ponce. My
great-grandfather was the
original Leon E. Totten, Leon
Classic if you will.
Indeed,
life at the Totten house was
chaotic with two Lees around.
My mother would call out "Lee"
for my father and inevitably
I would answer. She worked
around this by beckoning me
with "Lee-Lee" which I guess
is Slovak for "my son Lee,
not my husband Lee." That's
only when she wasn't using
the full-on, far more frequent,
now-you're-in-trouble "Leon
Totten", which I never answered
to , especially if I knew
it was for me.
When
I was a teenager the problem
became phone calls. Someone
not knowing of the plethora
of Lee Totten's would call
and ask to speak to "Lee".
"Which one?" was the standard
retort. This usually lead
to a moment of contemplative
silence by the caller, not
sure exactly what kind of
strange game this was.
For
a while, I was "Little Lee"
and my father just "Lee".
That worked until, at six
feet, I towered over my father
by a good four inches. Then
I became "Younger Lee" and
dad became "Old Lee". That
lasted about a week until
"Old Lee," not so fond of
being reminded of his advancing
age, nixed the monikers.
It
only got more confusing when
I attended the college that
my father taught at. At the
peak of my rebelliousness
and with a weekly column in
the student newspaper, my
father caught more than his
share of flack for my articles.
As far as most people knew,
the byline said "Lee Totten"
and they only knew the professor,
not the student.
This
worked to my disadvantage
as well - on many occasions
while talking to an attractive
coed, she would ask my name.
"Lee Totten," I'd say. "Oh...
Professor Lee Totten's son?!"
For
the record, no one wants to
date their professor's son.
This
scenario recently played itself
out again when I made a live,
on-air radio appearance at
a major-market radio station.
I play my songs and no sooner
to I finish than the studio
line at the station rings.
The deejay hands the phone
to me. I figure maybe it's
an adoring fan (I MUST have
at least one SOMEWHERE).
"Hey"
the guy on the other end of
the line said. "Are you Professor
Totten's son?"
On
a positive note, there are
still a bunch of people who
think that my dad is pretty
cool for playing in a rock
band at his age.
The
height of confusion came one
year when myself, my father
AND my grandfather all happened
to live in the same small
Massachusetts town. The local
post office, kind of a Mayberry
meets Mr. Magoo place, had
enough trouble delivering
mail to the people NOT named
Leon Totten, never mind trying
to determine WHICH of the
three Leon Totten's certain
items were intended for.
But
despite the chaos at times,
I have never lacked for self-identity.
I have never felt compared
to my father because of my
name. I have never felt burdened
by being Leon E. Totten IV.
I
do, however, have a greater
sense of my own history. There
is something indefinably magic
about being a direct-name
descendant. I never knew my
great-grandfather, but I feel
an inexorable connection to
him by the mere fact that
I carry his name. I feel a
sense of tradition, a sense
of lineage, a direct connection
to my past and the past of
my family. My great-grandfather
was a successful man, my grandfather
was a successful man, my father
is a successful man. I am
the latest Lee Totten to hit
the world, and I'm here to
write my own unique chapter
in the Leon Totten story.
An
unfair burden to be named
after a succession of my ancestors?
Hardly. A profound sense of
heritage and a spiritual connection
with those before me whose
name I bear? Definitely.
Rest
in peace, Grandpa Totten.
This
column © 2001 Lee Totten
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