The history and usage of the Mark portion of my name recites in a straightforward manner. Mark is the English form of the Latin Marcus which was likely derived from the name of the Roman god Mars. Mars, in turn, is possibly related to Latin mas "male" (genitive maris) and of course is the name of the fourth planet in the solar system (Hanks 148-49). Famous Mark's include: Saint Mark, the author of the second Gospel in the New Testament and patron saint of Venice, where he is supposedly buried; Cleopatra's Mark Antony; and, Samuel Clemens' Mark Twain. Some variations of Mark include Marc, Marcel, Marcello, Marco, and Marcos. I fancy, in fact, a variation of Marcus, namely Markus, when signing notes to my mother. Somehow the substitution of the "k" for the "c" makes me feel as though I've put my own stamp on a fairly popular name. Mark, by the way, didn't catch on as a well-used name in the States until the 1950's, but by 1960 it had become the sixth most popular boys’ name (Hanks 149).

All these tidbits seem only moderately interesting as compared to what Kabalarians have to say about Mark, which I feel obliged to quote unabridged:

I don't mind the parts about "stubborn nature," "alone with your own thoughts," and "steadfast and loyal," although I'd always attributed these things to my astrological sign, Taurus. As a poet, I suppose I can get used to expressing my "deeper thoughts and feelings best through writing." But I do not like the implications of lung ailments or "weaknesses centering in the head." Maybe the Kabalarians would explain myself to me more fully if I, for a mere $29.99, purchase their twenty-page, in-depth report describing "the influences affecting your personality and potential from your name and date of birth…an evaluation of your unique abilities, inner potential, strengths and weaknesses, compatibility in personal and business relationships, career aptitudes, health, and degree of happiness and success -- all created by your name!" (Kabalarians).

But now to the heart and soul of my name issue: the family name Yakich. Because my last name often causes people phonological and morphological troubles, it was the first word I learned how to spell. In fact, I remember reciting the letters y-a-k-i-c-h even before I completely comprehended why people needed last names. But even after I had the spelling and pronunciation down pat, I still didn't know what Yakich meant, just that it was odd and vaguely Slavic, whatever that meant to me at five years old. I suppose the whole endeavor might have been complicated further by the fact that I was adopted, but that's a name-person-hunt we just don't have time for now.

As a kid I quickly noticed the penchant of men for calling each other by their last names, principally on the soccer field, on the basketball court, and in similar venues. Later, this phenomenon seemed to spillover into other settings I came to know well, including college dorms, law offices, photomats, mechanics' garages, and pool halls. Even overseas as an undergraduate in Vienna, I observed this last name phenomenon but soon realized it was linked to how men, and some woman especially in the workplace, first answered the telephone -- "mit Schmidt" meaning "your speaking with Schmidt (last name)." In any case, it is rare in the States for a female friend of mine to say "hey, Yakich," and then it's usually to parody one of my male friends. No girlfriend has ever called me Yakich for any sustained period of time.

Many a genius, however, both men and women, have called me "jock-itch." This has a long and tragic history which would take me back to schoolyard rhubarbs I'd rather not care to recall at present, and trust that your imagination is sufficient to conjure up the kinds of ostensibly benign verbal arrows I've had to endure over the years. I won't go into the therapy or holistic remedies I've applied to treat my wounds, nevertheless, I admit once trying to write a poem about/for my name. It was an unfortunate incident. The one thing worth saving was the line "I've often wanted to ditch my name / like a child at the beach." But now, considering it more closely, I don't find this line very good though the consonance between "ditch" and "beach" pleases my ear. (I've also never been able to write poems on demand, say, for mother for Mother's Day, and I want it to be absolutely clear I don't condone writing poems as therapy. But I diverge.)

After many years of work, travel, and play (somewhere in my mid-twenties), I made peace with my last name. I no longer wanted "to hang the name Yakich by the "Y" and beat it like a rug" (another perfectly awful vestigial line from the aforementioned poem), and even came to appreciate its uniqueness. Outside of my extended family, I've never met another Yakich face-to-face.

The Yakich story harks back to my paternal grandfather, Anton Yakich, and his arrival at Ellis Island on March 13, 1920. Fortunately the ship manifests from 1892 to 1924 are searchable on-line, and provide this information on Anton: Yokich, Anton, Yugoslav, 25 years old. The Ellis Island website also includes photographs. Here is one of the mighty ship, the Santarem, Anton came over on:

The Santarem was built by Bremer Vulkan Shipbuilders of Bremen, Germany, in 1908. It weighed 6,757 gross tons at 419 feet long, 54 feet wide, was equipped with steam quadruple expansion engines (twin screw), and road along at a comfortable service speed of 4 knots (Ellis). Anton was one of the 900 third class passengers; there were 50 first class souls. The Santarem was scrapped in 1962, four years later Anton died.

In the above listing, you may have noticed a change in the spelling of Yakich -- the "o" instead of the "a" in second position. Somewhere between New York and Joliet, Illinois, Anton made the change to the "a." (Immigration and Naturalization Services also cite Yacich as an alternate spelling.) There is some family gossip about Anton's origins, namely that he was the black sheep of his family back in Ljublana (the capitol of Slovenia) or that he did some terrible deed making it urgent that he leave. But I don't take stock in much of this, because Anton came over during one of the mass migrations of Slovenes to the States. 1870 to 1924 are the traditional dates of great immigrations of many peoples into the country, and I suspect Anton came here for many of the traditional reasons people left Europe, especially around the time of World War I.

Jacob has what seems to be the history. Obviously Biblical in origin, the name means "to hold the heel" or "supplanter" or "in addition to" (Hanks 119). In Hebrew it is Ya'akov. Jacob was the son of Isaac and Rebecca and the father of the twelve founders of the twelve tribes of Israel. And while I'm in the area, I must again cite the Kabalarians:

I'm not sure what I should make of these Kalabarian insights -- they keep emphasizing loneliness, inabilities to communicate, and lung disorders. Maybe they're just describing the human condition, but I wish they'd do so up front.

But for curiosity's sake, I did decide to go back to my own idiosyncratic genealogy by examining the word jock-itch. Jock-itch, sometimes hyphenated sometimes not, is medically termed tinea cruris cobbled together from Latin, meaning "of the leg," around 1923 (OED). Webster's defines jock-itch as ringworm of the crotch, and cites the term as entering into English around 1950. From the shopinprivate.com website, I learned that the jock-itch fungus is the same fungus that causes athlete's foot. This group of fungi is called dermatophytes. Jock-itch manifests itself as a rash of red, semi-circular scaly lesions. It's not considered a chronic disease and can be easily treated with over-the-counter medicines, mostly powders. I am a little embarrassed to admit that I once had jock-itch as a middle-schooler, and believed that somehow my last name was beginning to seek its full wrath on me. Fortuitously, I also had athlete's foot at the time and made the connection between the two burning sensations myself and so applied the same malodorous foot powder to the groin area and that was that. But jock-itch is always with me. As I mentioned earlier, it has taken some time for me to tolerate and ultimately appreciate my last name. It's still a source of occasional amusement, and as a poet and writer I hope Yakich may come in handy one day for its peculiarity.

Works Cited

Appleton, Robert. The Catholic Encyclopedia ,Volume II. Imprimatur. John M. Farley, Archbishop of New York, 1907.

Ellis Island, www.ellisislandrecords.org. Statue of Liberty-Ellis Island Foundation, Inc., 2000.

Golec, Lilijana Znidarsic. Director, Arhiv Republike Slovenije. Personal correspondence. July 2001.

Hanks, Patrick and Flavia Hodges. A Concise History of First Names. Oxford University Press, 1992.

Hawlina, Peter. President, Slovensko Rodoslovno Drustvo (Slovenian Genealogical Society). Personal correspondence. July 2001.

Ingraham, Holly. People's Names: A Cross-Cultural Reference Guide to The Proper Use of Over 40,000 Personal and Familial Names and Cultures. London: McFarland & Co, 1997.

Kalabarians. www.kalabarians.com. Society of Kalabarians of Canada & Kalabarian Philosophy. Vancouver, 2000.

Oxford English Dictionary. Ed. J. A. Simpson and E. S. C. Weiner. 2nd ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989. OED Online. Oxford University Press, 2001.

Shopinprivate.com. Isdera Corp. Livonia, Michigan, 2001.

Telekom Slovenia. www.telekom.si. Phone directory, 2001.

Withycombe, E.G. The Oxford Dictionary of English Christian Names. Third ed. Oxford, 1977.