My mother’s maiden name was Espy and when I was growing up there were a fair number of Espy last names in the family. I took pride in the name, even though my Uncle Willard Espy – the genealogist of the family – found more than one scoundrel among our forebears. Nevertheless, my great-grandfather had been one of Oysterville’s founders and my own beloved grandfather had been a state senator. Espy was a name to live up to.
The males in my great-grandfather’s line have had difficulty perpetuating the name. They mostly have female offspring or none at all. As far as I know, there are only four or five Espys who can trace their ancestry back to Oysterville’s R. H. Espy, and none of them live hereabouts or even associate themselves with us country cousins.
So, when the ridge to the west of town was developed in the 1990s and a road off Sandridge was named Espy Drive, I thought it was a nice way to honor the name. When the Willard R. Espy Literary Foundation was organized a few years later, I again felt a bit of pride, even though none of it had much to do with our family.
It wasn’t long, though, before parts of that Willard R. Espy Literary Foundation name started disappearing. First the “Willard R.” went away. Then the “Literary” was dropped. Finally, it was no longer called a “Foundation.” Just “Espy.”
It was disconcerting to read in the newspaper, “Espy is presenting awards to young writers who…” I objected and so did some of my cousins, but no one listened. I can’t say I was broken-hearted when the Foundation bellied-up and the name “Espy” began to be re-associated with our family rather than with an amorphous, albeit well-purposed, Foundation.
I don’t think I had given a full sigh of relief, though, before my up-the-street neighbor acquired a sweet black lab puppy. “We are going to call her Espy” Anne told me. “I hope you don’t mind.”
And, as I looked at that eagerly wagging bundle of energy straining at her leash, I said, “No, not at all,” and meant it. It seemed like a match to me.
Even so, when I hear references to “Espy” in conversation or hear her being called or scolded, I am momentarily confused. I can’t help wondering what happened to proper dog names like Fido and Rover and can only hope that Espy doesn’t enter the doggy lexicon for good. Especially not here in Oysterville. Yikes!
I had an energetic (and very naughty) Irish Setter pup named after me – somehow my mischievous namesake always delighted me with her antics even when she was being scolded.