In its Gaelic whisper, Donn (dɔːn) evokes the dusky hue of autumn chestnuts beneath a rain-slicked pine grove, a single syllable that bears both the quiet dignity of a clan chieftain and the solemn promise of ancestral echoes—its Old Irish root meaning simply “brown,” yet resonating with the mythic gravitas of the Lord of the Dead who presides over the Otherworld in Celtic legend. As a boy’s name, it drifted through California’s birth records in the mid-twentieth century only as a fleeting ember—hovering beyond the two-hundredth rank and appearing in mere handfuls—yet its very rarity has become a virtue, like an isolated red maple leaf skimming a mist-hung garden pond. There is a cool reserve to Donn, a contemplative stillness akin to a bamboo flute’s lone note drifting across a moonlit courtyard, tempered by a wry smile at its own understated obscurity. To give a child this name is to invite him into a lineage defined by silent strength and ancient roots, while also bestowing the quiet wonder of dawn’s first light upon glistening pine needles.
| Donn Reynolds - |
| Donn F. Eisele - |
| Donn A. Starry - |
| Donn Pearce - |
| Donn Barber - |