Alte Luna's Simchat Bat

This past Sunday we had Alte's baby naming at our home.  We were surrounded by our family and friends, many of whom traveled from out of town to be with us on this special day.  The weather was a perfectly humid DC 90 degree day, but that didn't stop Hersh and his friends from playing outside.

Here are the words that Jacob composed and shared about how we chose Alte's name:

            When we found out that we had a baby coming, we spent many, many hours thinking of names.  Some were good options, some where not-so-good.  We wanted a name that would imbue our child with a connection to her heritage, to her family, and to the world.  We wanted a name with strength, a name with meaning. 

            After a few months of trying out different names, we were attracted to the name Alte.  Like Hersh, Alte is a Yiddish name.  The word Alte means “ancient” in Yiddish, a symbol of the ancient tradition that our Alte is now carrying forward.  When we met her, we immediately felt that this was the right name for her.  She came into the world alert, with eyes open, taking with her surroundings with the deep appreciation of an old soul.

            Her middle name is “Luna,” or Levanah in Hebrew and Yiddish.  Both Luna and Levanah are poetic appellations for the moon, and the name Levanah has been in use since Biblical times.  We often view the moon as an ethereal beauty, yet it exerts a powerful force in our world day in and day out.  We hope that our Alte Luna will be a force for renewal every day, and a bright light amidst darkness.

            Alte Luna's name has additional significance for us because it serves as a memorial to each of our paternal grandfathers.  They were known as Nathan and Leon, but each of their Hebrew names, like Alte's, began with the the Hebrew letter Aleph.  My grandfather's Hebrew name was Aharon Nachman, Aaron Nathan in English, but when his mother—who knew little English—registered him for school, the form asked for “last name first,” so she put his names in reverse order, and he became Nathan Aaron.  Darci's grandfather was Avraham Leyb, Abraham Leon in English, but everyone knew him as Leon—to the extent that Darci's father didn't know his first name was Abraham until Lowell was born! 

            Darci's Papa Leon was a man of strong will—so strong that when he heard on the radio on day that smoking was bad for your health, he immediately threw his cigarette out of his car window, and despite having smoked for many years, never had another cigarette.  He was working as a bakery machine repairman when he met Darci's Mama Jean, the daughter of a bakery owner.  Six weeks later, he dared her to marry him.  Not thinking he was serious, she said yes.  A few hours later, they were married.  He was serious.  He escaped violence in Poland at the end of World War I and arrived in Cuba, speaking only Polish.  He quickly learned Spanish, then came to New York, where he learned Yiddish and English.  Again, through force of will, he not only learned English, but trained himself to speak it nearly without an accent so he could give speaches in his local Masonic Temple, where he rose to a high position.  Despite re-inventing himself in America, he remained committed to family, sending money and supplies to his mother and siblings who relocated from Poland to Israel.

            My Grandpa Nathan was also a very determined man.  As a teenager during the Great Depression, he supported his entire family with the money he earned from his paper route.  He was one of the top sellers of the Brooklyn Eagle, taking on routes seemingly too large for one kid to manage.  How did he do it?  He subcontracted delivering the papers to other kids in the neighborhood so he could focus on selling new subscriptions and collecting payments.  As he grew older, he managed to get into dental school at Ohio State, despite not having an undergraduate degree, and he put himself through school by selling tap-dancing lessons door-to-door.  Apparently, there were a lot of kids in the Columbus area who were destined to be the next Shirley Temple—or so their parents were told by my grandfather.  He also had quite a sense of humor.  He always told us grandkids that as grandfather, it was his job to “teach us the bad stuff.”  In retrospect, the bad stuff consisted mostly of singing songs and eating spinach so I could be strong like Popeye—but at the time, I thought he was teaching me some super-secret bad stuff.

            So we wish for you, our Alte Luna, that you have a strong will and desire for self-improvement like Papa Leon; that you have resourcefulness and a sense of humor like Grandpa Nathan; that you remain deeply rooted in the alte, in the ancient values and spirit of our Jewish tradition; and that you remain as ever-changing and bright as the moon.  We wish you a lifetime of discovery, of growth, and of joy.  Amen.