Honestly, am I named after Abe?

We noticed right away that Lincoln's name strikes a chord with people: in those first days at the hospital nurses and strangers were compelled to tell us their own stories about people they had known with the name, or comment on the iconic president, or proclaim the prescience of the name. One nurse even decided she was going to tell her daughter to name her forthcoming grandson Lincoln. In e-mails and comments on this blog, many people have asked, Why Lincoln? As a result, we felt it a good idea (on this, Abe Lincoln's Birthday) to tell something of the story of our Lincoln's naming.

Lara and I met in March of 2002, in Washington, D.C. At the time, I lived in Chicago and was in D.C. for a conference. Staying with my friend Marla, we went out one night for dinner with some of her co-workers at Saigonnais, a Vietnamese Restaurant in Adams Morgan. Lara, of course, was among the group of friends that night and we hit it off. The next night we met again with a group of friends for dinner and this time four of us--Lara, Marla, Arti and I--headed to the Lincoln Memorial. It was, Lara said then, one of her favorite places to go; especially at night because of the way it is lit, and for the relative lack of crowds. After taking in the statue of Lincoln and the words of the Gettysburg Address, the four of us sat on the steps (just to the left and below where Dr. King gave his famous speech) and talked until late. It was then, on those steps, that we both began to feel some strong desire to be together.

Flash forward two years, a few thousand dollars in plane tickets, and a move to Northern Virginia. On those same steps, above the chatter of bus loads of school children counting the steps to the top, Lara and I decided to get married. This time we were sitting to the right of where Dr. King spoke--where Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn got drunk in Wedding Crashers, for you high-brow film aficionados. By this time Old Virginia and D.C. had had there way with me and I was on my way to becoming a history teacher. Later, during the time we were picking out wedding rings, I was reading Sandburg's biography of Lincoln and found this nugget: Lincoln inscribed his wedding rings with the phrase "Love is eternal". Cheesy, perhaps, but it struck a chord and we decided to do the same.

So, it was fitting that when we became pregnant last May and realized that our little one would likely be born very near Abraham Lincoln's 200th birthday, we chose to name him Lincoln. The name is, only in part, a recognition of that enigmatic leader--a hope that our son, like the man whose name he will share, will be strong in conviction and wise in his ways. However, the name is far more personal for us, evoking not historical import, but instead the important symbols of our love, of our dedication to each other and to our growing family.