After my dad’s wedding, my remaining family members gathered to play cards and drink the weekend away (typical Bainbridge behavior).  

A few hands and a bottle of wine in, we start to talk about the tendency towards alliteration in both my family and Juli’s (my dad’s new wife) sister’s family.  (Beth and Blair-and now Ben-and 3 J’s in the other family.  I’d list them but I honestly don’t remember their names.)  In order to fit in with the J’s, when Ben visits his cousins, they gave him a “J” name: Jamin (pronounced “jammin’,” from Benjamin).  

My uncle Dave, who had been playing babysitter to his two young daughters (and intoxicated adult Bainbridges) the whole weekend, managed to put a few back and offer valuable insight.  He declared that Blair and I needed “J” names to fit in with our new “family.”  

“I think Beth should be Jezebel.”  Ensuing laughter.  ”No, I think it should be more personal, it should come from your name: how about Jezebeth?!”  

When the shoe fits…