Ethelyn unfolds like a softly whispered sonnet, its syllables—ETH-uh-lin—bearing the gentle weight of Old English dignity (from æthel, “noble,” and linde, “tender”). In Ohio’s early twentieth-century nursery ledgers she appeared sparingly yet gracefully—seven newborn bearers in 1914 (rank 140), ten in 1915 (156), a quiet pause, then nine in 1920 (171), six in 1922 (178), five in 1923 (175) and nine again in 1924 (179)—as though each new cradle rang the echo of a distant mandolin beneath a Tuscan moon. Warm and expansive, Ethelyn wears her heritage like a velvety scarf of antiquity, weaving the medieval grandeur of candlelit halls with the intimate laughter of modern family gatherings. There is, too, a lighthearted charm in her glide—an invitation to imagine a little girl twirling through sun-dappled vineyards, her name drifting behind her like the final note of a lullaby that transcends time.
| Ethelyn Gibson - |
| Ethelyn Maria Tucker - |