My daughter got her name from a San Francisco Guardian newspaper box.
Actually, she got her name from a prophetic graffiti artist who chose a Guardian newspaper box as his canvas. But I get ahead of myself. It was September 1997, my eighth month of pregnancy, and my husband and I were taking our last pre-baby vacation. All the way up the California coast, we debated what to name our daughter. She was to be named after my mother, Marcia, who’d died when I was seventeen. By Jewish tradition, this meant we needed a name starting with an M. After several false starts we’d narrowed the field to Maya— popular in my husband’s native Israeli culture–and Melanie, just because we liked it.
Causes Hope Edelman Supports
Motherless Daughters of Orange County
Belize Children's Food Fund
Doctors Without Borders