Like my late paternal grandmother, I love unusual names and gardening. I never met Grandma Florence as she died in 1933, twenty-five years before my birth.
For years I wondered why Dad’s older sister, one of my favorite aunts, spelled her name Alyce with a “y” instead of an “i.” While thinking up a pseudonym to write under for this site, I googled Alyce out of curiosity.
Apparently, ninety-two years ago, Grandma Florence named my aunt after an annual ground covering legume, Alyce clover planted in fields on the rural upstate NY farm they lived on. This new discovery was almost too good to be true. It was inevitable I take this as my newest pen name.
What I found most profound, was the sense of connection I felt across time and space with my grandmother. It was as if this new revelation was actually a long forgotten memory of my own. As I looked around at my “Farm Scene” kitchen wall paper, I thought to myself, who says there’s no such thing as DNA Memory.
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