my grandfather (mom’s side) died a year before i was born. liver problems. alcohol addiction. violent tendencies. but he was a good father, as i was told — when he was sober. he was a frustrated scientist. very smart. he invented a windmill and a paraglider from scratch. until, of course, alcohol ruined him.

i got the name jewey from my dead grandfather through my dad’s dream while my mom was still pregnant with me. it was a very specific request. specific enough that in that dream, when my grandfather told my dad to name his second child jewey, my dad asked him to spell it out — which my grandfather did. the exact same spelling of my name right now. my dad forced himself to wake up just so he could jot the name and the spelling down on the wall calendar.

i don’t know what my name means. urbandictionary.com may define it as “slight mental depravity or overcautious zeal.” i say, coming from a dead grandfather, it must mean something very special. period. (granted he wasn’t drunk that time he communicated with my dad.)

everyone has a story to tell as to how their names came about. funny stories. weird stories. corny stories. interesting stories all the same.

so when i came upon Shipwreck Anthony as a name that would soon be given to one of our newborns, i was intrigued.

in my mind, i was like, “what the –?!”

what’s next? Flashflood?!