My son is a three-year-old toddler named Blake. Born eight days after my birthday, on a beautiful Spring morning, I was so excited to have one of my dreams come true. I had no idea what I wanted to name him. I looked through magazines, searched online, and nothing caught my eye. Considering he would live with his ‘title’ for the rest of his life, I wanted to choose something that was more subtle than my own. Jack Daniel is not a name I would ever consider giving my child, no matter if my parents chose to name me after a Mexican liquor.
I never thought about him being a Junior because I always put out into the universe that MY son would be a man who wears his own shoes someday. I finally buckled down and asked my husband what he think would be an ‘appropriate’ name to call our son. He came up with Blake. I did not like it, mainly because he did not want Blake to have a middle name; so boring. All of the men in his family do not have middle names, but on my side of family, everyone has a middle name. After receiving countless ideas from coworkers, family, and friends, I decided that Blake was okay, simply because there was no alternative. I wanted my son to have a piece of my father. Afterall, Blake would carry on the last name of the McCrays (husband’s father and grandfather); he would be named by my husband, and I felt it would only be right if my father came up with a middle name that I was so sure my son would have despite the tradition on my husband’s side of the family. The middle name that my dad choose turned out to be proposed by one of my dad’s girlfriends! But, I loved it so much, I decided to keep it. Hence, the birth of B.C.M.!
Submitted By Tequila C.
