It started off simple enough. I added all of the people that I could to my family tree on Ancestry.com. I added my Dad’s three sisters and his brother. I did the same with my mother and her four sisters. I added all of my cousins. I went back as far as I could with my grandparents and their parents and their parents and so on.
I added my middle name (Joseph) to my personal profile and then added the middle names of my two sisters and brother. I added my parent’s middle names. I then added the middle name to my aunt Erica because I knew it to be Ann. I would have to ask my mother or sisters for the rest of them as I wasn’t sure.
I sat back and looked at the names. I smiled.
My wife looked over my shoulder and saw what I was doing.
“Adding to your tree?” she asked.
“Trying to fill in the extra stuff. I’m doing middle names now. You want to hear something odd?” I answered and asked back.
She nodded her head.
“So I think my Mom is shitty at naming,” I said.
“How do you figure?” she asked.
“Did I ever tell you that I was the one who came up with the name for my sister Jessica?”
“Aw, that’s cute.”
“Maybe. I mean yes, on the one hand I was four and came up with the name Jessica so that’s cute. I called her Jexica or Jexie because I couldn’t pronounce it. That is cute. What isn’t cute is where I got the name Jessica from.”
My wife sat down next to me, coffee in hand. The intrigue factor went from polite to real.
“I got the name from the girl who lived literally right next door to us when we lived in New York. She was only like two years younger than me.”
Katharine looked puzzled, “So your mom was just like yeah, we’ll give her the same name? Did she know the little girl next door?”
“Yeah, Allison and I played with her all the time. Isn’t that weird? It’s a good thing we still don’t live next to each other. Would have made for an awkward conversation at some point. I feel like that’s really odd. It’s not like Jessica is some sort of deeply holy name and we’re religious or something. Mom was just like, yeah sure kid, Jessica.”
“That’s just lazy,” Katharine said, laughing.
“Right? But that isn’t the only lazy weird thing. There’s more. Some is coincidence, and some is more of this laziness,” I was smiling but my brow was furrowed.
“Go on…” Katharine said.
“Well, Jessica’s middle name is Ann.”
“So?”
“My mom’s middle name is Ann. So therefore my mom was like sure whatever Jessica, but also we’ll just give her the middle name Ann too. She was just like, I’m over it.”
“I see. Well that is lazy,” Katharine agreed
“Coincidentally my step mom and step sister both have the middle name Ann too.”
“That’s a lot of Anns,” she replied. “What’s Allison’s middle name?”
I pointed at the computer screen, “It’s Erica. Like my Aunt’s name.”
Katharine looked at the family tree. She slapped my shoulder hard, “Shut the fuck up!”
“What?” I asked.
She pointed at the screen, “Is this true?”
“What?” I repeated.
“Is your Aunt Erica’s middle name Ann?”
“Yes.”
“So your mom and your mom’s sister have the middle name Ann.”
“I guess they do. I never really thought it.”
“She’s got four sisters. It doesn’t seem arbitrary. Do you know their middle names or your grandma’s?”
“Not off the top of my head.”
“Shut the fuck up! Matt.” She slapped me again. “They’re probably all Anns!”
I let the thought sink in for a while. My mom with her British immigrant parents and sisters with their British ass names. There was my grandma Alice and her sisters Susan, Sandra, Marlene, and Erica. My mom’s name is Debra. My moms maiden name is Jackson. I started saying them out loud.
“Alice Ann Jackson. Susan Ann Jackson. Sandra Ann Jackson. Debra Ann Jackson. Marlene Ann Jackson. Erica Ann Jackson.”
It made sense. It sounded right. How had I never figured this out before?
“What the fuck. This is big.”
Katharine was excited. Her eyes lit up, ravenous for more of the conspiracy she had just uncovered. She grabbed my shoulders and looked deep into my eyes, “Why has nobody ever talked about this?”
“I, I don’t know.”
I felt a stutter coming on. My mind was moving too quick for my mouth to keep up with.
“They’re all Ann,” I murmured. Then I yelled, “They’re all Ann!”
I mean what was coincidence and what wasn’t coincidence? Reality was crumbling. Was I finally escaping this construct? Had this been my black cat in the matrix? Had we uncovered the glitch? And how had I, a successful, rational, educated and calculated individual miss this?
Was Katharine’s name actually Kathar-Ann? Had I uncovered the secret of the Fremas-anns? Was everything in the world controlled by the Illum-ann-ati? Was the next Pope going to be Pope Jean Paul-Ann the XXIV? Was I in some kind of Truman show where as a sick twist they named all of the middle names the women related to me Ann?
There it was right on the back of our money, Ann-uit cœptis which I’m guessing now meant, “Overlord Ann”.
I pictured myself in the shed outside, ball of yarn in hand, talking to Ed Harris about the global Ann network. Those Q-Ann-on folks. Connecting news articles and maps. Looking for hidden messages in holy texts. By the gods! Every third letter in revelations spells Ann. The third book in the Bhagavad-Gita is the book of Ann.
I stood up and began pacing the room. Katharine was filled with raucous laughter. I was laughing as well but it was the laughter of a man whose sanity was fleeting.
“You’re probably in on it,” I said, accusatory.
“What?” my laughing “wife” replied through the laughter.
I would attack it head on. I grabbed my phone. Before I started digging the bunker in the middle of the woods, wearing a foil cap, and gathering munitions I would present the straightforward question based off of what I knew to be true to my sister Jessica.
I texted: I have questions. We need to talk.
I waited and continued pacing. Katharine continued laughing. Too many Anns. Too many Anns. It’s too many. Two books I had recently been reading sat on the counter. Anne Lamott’s lovely read on writing “Bird by Bird” and Ann Patchett’s delightful short story and essay collection “This is the Story of a Happy Marriage.” I looked at the E in Anne Lamott’s name and felt distrust.
I swatted them both to the floor, “More Anns!” I yelled.
Katharine doubled over, “Stop, please, I’m going to pee!”
My phone vibrated. My wife’s potential pants-wetting was the least of my concerns. A text conversation ensues:
Jessica: Is everything okay?
Me: You and Mom and Aunt Erica all have the middle name Ann. What are the middle names of the other Aunts and Grandma? I need to know! It’s important.
Also mom is shitty at naming. She let a four year old name you the same name as the girl next door. Ever considered how lazy that is?
Buzz Buzz.
Jessica: Haha! It is Lazy! I don’t know. Ann’s a good filler name.
Me: But the Ann’s Jessica! Are all of the middle names Ann? Why does no one talk about this. Why haven’t I realized this?
Buzz Buzz:
Jessica: You’re an idiot. Erica’s middle name isn’t Ann.
Me: What? What is it?
Buzz Buzz:
Jessica: Hold on…
I wait. All I can do is wait. I’m biting my nails. I haven’t bitten my nails in months.
Buzz Buzz:
Jessica: It’s Jean.
Me: Jean! HAHA yes! Thankyou!
I fall to my knees and raise my hands skyward.
“Erica’s middle name isn’t Ann! I was wrong! I’m not crazy! I’m just an asshole! Hallelujah!”
Relief washes over me. And Katharine continues to laugh. Reality forms again.
“This has all been over nothing then except your being an idiot?” she wiped the tears from her cheeks.
I breathed a deep breath of relief. It was still a lot of Anns between my mom, stepmom, sister and step sister but I felt better. It would take more than four Ann middle names to control the economy.
“What was her middle name then?” asked Katharine.
“It’s Jean.” I said soberly.
“Oh! My middle name is Jean reminded Katharine. And your sister Allison’s middle name is Erica. And your Aunt Erica Married a Joseph. And your middle name is Joseph. That’s a crazy coincidence.”
I froze. I turned to stare out the back window. I thought of the shed again.
“Jesus Christ, looks like we’ve got work to do.” I said to Ed Harris. Incidentally my grandfather’s name was Ed.
“Honey do we have any yarn? And what about thumb tacks?”
It would be a long night.