One cozy September evening, my family gathered together in their homey living room. My dad, mom, sister, and a soon-to-be-born baby named Zackary sat together on the couch, sharing various stories from their lives. As they relaxed and passed time together, my sister Elise (three years of age at the time) suddenly had a thought. She began to lean into my mother. Placing her head inches away from mine, she looked as if she was deep in thought. After a few moments of concerned listening, she shot up, eyes glistening with excitement. “He wants to be named Alan!” Elise exclaimed. 

And just like that, Zackary Whitmoyer was no more. 

Alan. four letters, two syllables, one simple word. Fairly unusual on its own — typically used as a surname in different forms — yet nonetheless found on rare occasions among a massive sea of mainstream monikers. 

Of Gaelic origin, denoting cheerfulness and allure. The modification of a name previously possessed by my paternal grandmother, Patsy Allen, had changed form and found itself upon my birth certificate (all credit to my sister; it is quite the upgrade from Zackary). 

Despite its simplicity, it  evokes powerful perceptions. comparable to a miso soup; steadfast in its plain and mellow nature, yet also a solid base upon which multitudinous meals can confidently shine.  It is a verdant pine forest, with earthy greens and browns accompanied by the harmonious melodies of songbirds and babbling streams. 

To others, it may seem the opposite. stiff intelligence, the smell of pencil lead, the beiges and grays of a cubicle. A far cry from miso soup and woodland scenery. Nevertheless, both interpretations have their merits; both suit me well. 

My name may evoke starkly contrasting perceptions, yet as a foundational component of my identity its various concepts all apply equally to myself. The understated versatility of a miso soup, the quiet confidence of a forest, and the productive intelligence of an office — all of these traits are diverse yet fundamental pieces of my identity.

In the same way my name defines me, I define my name in turn. 

Such is the beauty of a name.