When you need a distinguished lawyer character on a TV drama who at first is good but turns out to sinister —what do you name him? Gotta be something a little unique, maybe a hint of mystery, definitely distinguished. Not Bob or John or Mike, or Larry, or any of the hundreds of other regular sounding names I fervently wished my parents had blessed me from birth with. How about Preston? Yes Preston. That's a perfect name for the nice looking lawyer that seems so earnest and good but ends up being a dastardly criminal. But maybe not necessarily for, at that time anyway, a tall, kind of awkward quiet kid who might have stood out anyway and didn’t like it one bit. Gosh darn it, anything but that name...Preston. Thanks a bunch Mom and Dad, you really did me a favor!
When I was in 4th grade or so, I was already pretty fed up with my name. Grandmother’s maiden name and all that notwithstanding, I just didn’t think it was was cool to be a fourth grader named Preston that school year of 1970-something in Mrs. Maring’s class. Not when I already stuck out more than usual because of my even then elevated height. Nope, by then I had had enough of everything about being named Preston. So I decided to do something radical about it. I decided to change my identity. There was this (I thought at the time, anyway) really cool 5th grader with the last name of Douglas. I admired him for some reason which escapes me now, but at that time to me he was the coolest kid ever, and I longed to be him. I don’t think he was particularly popular, rich, good at sports, or lucky with the 5th grade (and very mature) ladies, but he had what I thought was the best name ever...his name was...
wait for it...
Larry. Yes, Larry. Larry Douglas. Larry, if you are out there, forgive me for having the fourth grade version of a man crush on not you, but your name. I just liked the way it sounded. So...so...just normal. Believe it or not for awhile I even signed my school homework papers with my cool new name. Larry Swigart. I liked the loop of the cursive L, the two R's in a row and that Y at the end—if you had a neat name like that you could sign your name and end it with a flourish with that Y. Larry Swigart. Nice ring to it, don’t you think? To use a modern phrase that I generally abhor, but absolutely fits right here...OMG.
Fast forward to the beginning of my freshman year in college. In our CMU campus dorm, the RA wanted to help everyone get acquainted. A reasonable thing to do for a bunch of pimply faced strangers all of a sudden on their own for the first time in their young lives. On the door of each dorm room were colorful balloons with the names and home cities of each of the four (or five in our case--freshman overflow) inhabitants. Steve Rienstra, Grand Rapids. Of course his name ended with "stra", he's from the west side of the state. Jay Berg, Livonia. Pure normal. Phil Flavin, Inkster. More normal but with a cool Irish twist. Tom Brothers, East Detroit. Oh to have a last name like that! Preston Swigart, Bloomfield Hills. Oh hell. On top of being named Preston, having a last name no one could ever get right, I had to be from Bloomfield Hills too? Please just kill me now. Steve Rienstra of Grand Rapids fame later told me he thought I would show up in a limo with servants in tow...Thanks again Mom and Dad! Not only did you saddle me with the weirdest name ever, but we had to live in Bloomfield Hills too?? Such a crisis!!
As an adult fortunately my perspective has changed somewhat. I can look back on my childhood and college years from the perspective of many years now, and see that things are just a bit different. A given: people comment on and remember my name. Hmm, maybe that's not such a bad thing since I'm in business for myself and there is tons of competition and talent my chosen field of work. In this crazy day and age, anything to get a bit ahead I suppose. Maybe now I'm proud to say I'm named after my grandmother on my Mom's side, and that I have a bunch of relatives with the last name of Preston up there in the Duluth area of northern "Minnesoota"...There are responsibilities that come with a handle like this, especially when coupled with semi-abnormal height. I'm often at a disadvantage when someone I barely know or remember comes up to me and calls me by name. So I've taken that as a challenge, and do my best to remember their names as well. Sometimes it works, sometimes not, but I always try, and then I feel guilty if I don't succeed.
'Old' Preston, nephew Gavin and nephew 'cool' Preston a few years back
Nowadays the name is not so uncommon and that pleases me. I'm proud to say I even have a namesake in my own family—thanks little bro with the normal sounding name of Matthew...My nephew, originally called by me "baby Preston", then "little Preston", who has now morphed into high school going, baseball playing, flame throwing "cool Preston" to my "old Preston". Pretty awesome if I do say so myself. Thanks a bunch Mom and Dad, and Grandmother Mary Preston too. I mean it this time in all the best ways. You really did me a favor. I'm honored to carry on this name and what it stands for in our family. If people remember it and me, well maybe that's a good thing, and maybe I won't try to melt into the wall so I don't stand out anymore. Love, Preston
My Grandmother Mary Preston Nyberg, along with my cousin Marie from Sweden. I am a direct and proud result of Mary meeting and eventually marrying a big tall Swedish guy, my Swedish Grandfather Jacob Nyberg.
POST SCRIPT: One of my high school friends just notified me that Larry Douglas passed away some years ago. RIP Larry, I hope in some way you knew that to me at one time you had it all, dude. Thanks to Angela Dupuis Galbraith for getting me up to speed.