My daughter, Maxine, just turned seven. She is not your average seven year old. Alright, in some ways she is a normal seven year old girl. She likes Hannah Montana, The Jonas Brothers and High School Musical. She also loves the John Travolta and Rikki Lake versions of Hairspray. If you ask her why, she will tell you that she liked how “black people and white people marched together so they could be equal.”The name Maxine is old fashioned. It was a popular name in the twenties, but has since fallen in popularity. When my husband and I first tossed the name around, it felt sort of clunky and even a bit ugly. But, as other names came onto the list and left the list, Maxine remained. It emerged as a strong and even cute name. And, it was a name that held meaning because it was my maternal grandmother’s name.
We began to tell a few people that we had settled on the name Maxine. My mother was thrilled. My mother-in-law was not convinced, but kept her sentiments quiet. Then, at approximately 7:30 PM on November 12, 2001, Maxine Eleanor Tewsley made her way into this world. She was one week overdue. Her cheeks were marked with red blisters. She barely had a nose. She was beautiful. My husband announced her arrival to our parents, all of whom were in the hospital waiting room. My mother sentimentally expressed how pleased her mother would have been. And, at that moment, my mother-in-law fell in love with the name Maxine.
Maxine knows the significance of her name, because we have told her stories about her great grandmother from the day she came home from the hospital. It would make for a great story if I could tell you how much Maxine is like my grandmother. I cannot tell you that. Maxine is uniquely Maxine. But, Maxine loves stories. She will tell you she loves stories that “really happened.” I may have hoped that naming Maxine after my grandmother would have resulted in a genetic miracle. A miracle that would have parts of my grandmother come alive in my daughter. Instead, something unexpected happened. The story of “how she got her name” created a desire in Maxine to hear other stories that “really happened.”
At first Maxine asked for stories about things that happened to her father or me, when we were little. Then, there was a night, when she was four, that she listened, captivated, to a story about Abraham Lincoln. She became somewhat obsessed with Abraham Lincoln. In first grade, the first book she checked out of the library was pictorial of Abraham Lincoln that contained almost 200 pages. Just the other day, I spoke with the librarian at her school. She commented on how Maxine always checks books out on Abraham Lincoln. At six she could tell you about the Emancipation Proclamation, the names of Lincoln’s wife and assassin, and the years in which he was born and died. And, although she is most fond of Lincoln, she can also tell you quite a lot about Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, Jr., Harriet Tubman, Anne Frank, and Helen Keller.
I might have thought that her interest in history was just a passing curiosity, but then there was a trip to the Henry Ford Museum and her Hundred Days Project.
Just after Christmas last year we journeyed to the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan. There were amazing things to see: huge Christmas trees with beautiful lights and decorations, elaborate doll houses, and big shiny trains. But, there were two things that thrilled Maxine. Lincoln’s chair from Fords Theater, and the bus on which Rosa Parks took a stance.
Shortly after our trip to the museum, Maxine began work on her Hundred Days project. At her school, it is a tradition for all of the kids to create something that represents their 10
0th day in school. It could 
be as simple as making the number 100 out of Cheerio’s. Maxine decided to draw 100 pictures representing 100 dates in American History. She asked her father and me to tell her about a date in history. Then, she would draw a picture of that event. She worked on her project for one month. We put all of the pictures into a three ring binder and she proudly carried it to school.This year Maxine wants to draw 100 pictures of dates in world
history. I told she is not your typical seven-year old.But then again, she wants “Baby Alive Learns to Potty” for Christmas.
