Mae, Medb, and Me.. Granny Frass comes through…

Granny Frass on the Name Mae…

Well now, Mae… isn’t it gas how you think your name is just a neat little variation, like a shorter skirt on the same old dress? Don’t fool yourself. That name is stitched together with more thread than you know.

Molly was mine, Mary after me, and Mae is yours. Same root, different bloom. But yours, ah, it carries a bit of that Celtic flair, harking back to Máire in the prayers and Medb in the myths. And let me tell you, Queen Medb wasn’t the type to sit quietly in the corner and crochet. She was bold enough to start wars, clever enough to win half of them, and brazen enough to drink the rest of the men under the table. Not a bad energy to have humming in your bones, if you ask me.

Now, don’t get notions, I’m not saying you should run off commanding armies (though I wouldn’t put it past you). But when you sign Mae, when you say it out loud, remember you’re calling on a line of women who knew how to stand their ground. Some did it with a broom in hand, some with a prayer, some with a pint, and some with sheer bloody-mindedness. You, my girl, do it with your words and your wit, and I can’t say I’m disappointed.

But here’s the thing: a name’s not a crown you balance on your head, it’s a key you carry in your pocket. It can open doors if you’re brave enough to use it. And knowing you, you’ll not only open them, you’ll march right in, rearrange the furniture, and tell the lot of them they’ve been sitting wrong this whole time.

That’s the spirit of it. You don’t live up to a name, you live through it. You’ve taken mine, put a shine on it, and given it legs to dance a bit bolder than I ever dared. So keep at it. But mind you, if you’re going to be dragging my name into your mad ideas and your sharp opinions, at least do it with a bit of style. No point in wasting a good name on half-hearted notions.

Now, off with you. You have work to be at, and don’t be making me regret lending you the family label.

– Granny Frass