I am now on a quest. Since I started this site, started checking search engines for it, and other people have found me because of the domain name, I’ve become fascinated by all the Lawvers in the world that I never knew existed.
I guess that wouldn’t surprise a “Smith”, “Brown”, or “Black”. Lawver’s not a normal last name. It’s weird. I didn’t think there were many of us out there, because once a name’s been out there for a while, people start to recognize it and don’t mispronounce it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been Kevin Lawyer. I’m sure the other Lawvers can raise their hands in agreement.
I always wanted a normal last name growing up. I wanted my mom’s maiden name: Cookson. There was always a lot of history wrapped up in. There were the stories of the guy who came to New York in the 1600s. We went to see a chest he made in a museum in Utica when I was in high school. Thomas Buell was his name. There was Lord Dalrymple the Earl of Stair who started a war in Ireland because he forgot to relay a message (or something like that). On the Lawver side? Zip. We didn’t even see my dad’s family. There were no great family stories. So, I thought we were alone in the world, a little Lawver Ship floating in a see of giant SmithLiners and BrownTankers.
Back to the present. I’ve been contacted by a Lawver who has a really cool first name (Tone, yeah, really). There are a couple Professor Lawvers. There’s a chiropracter Lawver, a racecar driver. There’s a type of soil called Lawver. There’s weather station in Wyoming called Lawver. There’s a Lawver Post Office in Campbell County, Wyoming. We’re all over the place.
I like seeing that there are more Lawvers than I will ever know. It’s nice to know that on both sides of my family, I go back farther than the eye can see. I can’t explain as eloquently as I’d like, but knowing that I come from a long line of people who lived, worked, did their people things and died long before I existed makes me feel like I’m somebody. I’m standing on a mountain of people who’s essences came together, got distilled, jumbled and mangled to produce me. The farther down the mountain I go, the more people there are. The more lives lived and stories that I have yet to hear.