Some twenty odd years ago, while working as the director of
communications for Virginia Mennonite Conference and Missions, I began our
monthly newsletter with a short devotional titled “Klymer Klatsch.” It was a
takeoff on the German word/phrase “Kaffeeklatsch” which means a conversation
over coffee. I simply changed the first letter of my name to form an
alliteration.
The old city hall in Affoltern am Albis, Switzerland |
When I began to write a blog a few years later, it was only
natural for me to resurrect the name Klymer Klatsch for the title. I’ve had
numerous conversations about this title; most people are bemused by my choice.
While here in Switzerland, I’ve enjoyed doing some work on
my ancestry, particularly looking into the origins of my father’s name Clymer,
and my mother’s, Horst.
The immigrant from whom I descend arrived in Philadelphia
with the name Henrich Clemmer. He had been Klemmer in Germany before he made
the cross-oceanic voyage. My great-grandfather changed our name from Clemmer to
Clymer.
Through email exchanges with Mennonite historian John Ruth,
I discovered that the Klemmer name originated in Affoltern am Albis, a region
southeast of Zürich. He also told me that there were variants of the name in
the same region: Klimer, Klimmer, and Kleiner. So I searched websites related
to the region and found another interesting variation of the name: KLYMER. Yes,
the same name as I use in my alliterative blog title!
But it gets even more interesting. I kept finding all sorts
twists and turns on the Clemmers’ migration to the USA with genealogical
experts presenting contrasting views. So when I discovered a website
MennoSearch.com, I was lured by the statement, “Research your Swiss, German, or
Mennonite Ancestry,” including information on the Clemmers, I sprung for it.
I excitedly opened the PDF file on the Clemmer genealogy and
the very first entry at the top of
The region Am Albis, near Zürich, where Klymer comes from |
I planned an excursion to Affoltern, the area of my
ancestors. Since there was no graveyard near the train station, I started out
on foot, looking for variations of my name on the mailboxes of apartment complexes.
I must have looked at some 100 mailboxes without any success. Instead I found
all sorts of other Swiss-Mennonite surnames: Huber, Good, Eberly, Lichty, Noll,
Siegrist, Gautsche, Bergey, Mischler, Hess, Eby and Baer. I even found the name
of some Honduran Anabaptists multiple times: Machado!
Not to be deterred, I began asking people on the street if
they had a schoolmate or acquaintance named, Klemmer, Klimmer, Klymer or
Kleiner. After enduring a number of puzzled looks, I finally found someone who
knew of several Kleiners who were classmates of hers. I didn’t have time to
schedule a visit with them, but I felt like I had made a connection.
What’s in a name? For me searching for my ancestry through
my surname was a process of finding roots, a home. I now know where I’ve come
since at least 1554. That’s over 450 years.
What’s in a name? A name that has been passed down for so
many years and in different places, gives me a sense of knowing who I am. That
name ties me to a human history of both time and place. But I also have another
name. I have been stamped with the “image and likeness of God” (Gen. 1:27), like
every other human being. While my Klymer name links me to an earthly heritage,
my God identity links me to an eternal heritage. “I have called you by name,
you are mine, (Isa. 43:1)” says my creator. God has been calling me “Klymer”
since before I was born, and since before I discovered where I’m from.
No comments:
Post a Comment