When you’re young, the simplest thing can cause a great deal of angst. For me, it was my family name. It’s quite unremarkable in the scheme of things but it took me a while to figure that out and even longer to embrace it.

As my mother used to tell it, when I was little, whenever I met anyone, I’d always tell them my full name. As if that wasn’t enough, I’d spell my last name, emphasizing the ‘y’ and the ‘e.’ I didn’t want anyone getting my Mayne wrong.

Then I started going to school with Thomases, Browns, Smiths, etc., and as the only Mayne, I was teased relentlessly (main road, horse mane, you get the picture). My then uncommon name, the name I had been so proud of, began to feel like a weight I didn’t want to carry. (When you’re little, you want to be special. Then comes that awkward time, when you just want to be regular.)

I was not quite 6 when my mom, a school teacher, moved to a new school and took me with her. There I heard about a student, Jasmine Baskiratic (I’ve spelled it phonetically), whose name sounded weirder than mine.  Almost all the kids called her ‘Basket Racket.’ I never did. I was just relieved not to be the object of everyone’s ridicule.

Moving to Canada, so many names were unusual (to me) that mine didn’t even raise an eyebrow. From time to time, though, I’d get asked if I were related to a Mayne the person knew.

I was taken aback the first time I was asked. The attendant at the gym on campus, another student, asked if I were Robert Mayne’s sister. I chucked, out of relief (I’m not the only one) and because of another story my mother used to tell. When she was pregnant, my grandfather was so sure I would be a boy that he named me Robert and called me Bobby Mayne until the day he found out that I was a girl. (I like Bobby Mayne.)

Over the years, I’ve come to accept the uniqueness of my name.  People have remarked on its musicality, the way it flows easily off the tongue. Someone even said that it sounded like a stage name.

All of this helped me get comfortable with my name. And since it’s taken me so long to accept, I vowed never to change it.

I stopped in my tracks one day in my favorite liquor store when I noticed a bottle of Bordeaux with my name on it. My head swelled! I was so stoked, I ordered a couple cases and sent a bottle to family members. I also included a note telling them that it had been such a good harvest that year and demand was strong. Unfortunately, it meant that they could get only a bottle.

Just before my aunt returned to the U.K., I presented her with a few bottles. The look on her face when she saw the label is forever etched in my memory.

When friends came over, I’d put a few bottles out without making an announcement. It was fun to watch as the first person noticed the name. I still get a kick out of doing that.

I had hoped to visit the Chateau Grand Mayne on my trip to France but I ran out of time.

As if having a vineyard and wines with my name weren’t enough, one night I stumbled upon a place called Mayne Island. Named after Royal navy lieutenant, Richard Charles Mayne, Mayne Island is 21 kilometers square and home to about 900 permanent residents. It is located off the coast of British Columbia and north of Washington state’s San Juan Islands.

Now I’m definitely on the map! How many people can say that?

I’d never Googled my name until I started writing this piece and was surprised to find it in the urbandictionary (I didn’t even knew one existed!). The Urbandictionary attributes its meaning to, among other things, a corruption of the word ‘man’ as in the movie Scarface and its use in the South. Of course, that makes absolutely no sense to me.

But I found two people with the same names as my uncles, Cuthbert and Seymour. Cuthbert, 1544-1577, was an English Roman Catholic priest and martyr (it took guts to be a Roman Catholic in England at that time), and Seymour, is a Canadian poet and literary translator. (I have some impressive shoes to fill!)

Mayne is said to be a derivation from the Latin magnus and the French magne which mean great, large, rich, powerful.

I’ve heard that there are Maynes in Spain, Australia, Canada, Venezuela, the US and Ghana. My family’s still unsure whether Mayne came to us through Scotland or Ireland — we’ve heard both. But following my journey of acceptance, it doesn’t matter much now where it came from. What matters is how I wear it.

To the Maynes everywhere!