Powmia Johanssen had been named after her father’s abiding belief that U.S. servicemen, including his aviator brother Kevin, were still being held prisoner somewhere in Southeast Asia. He’d never been able to quite articulate why, after so many years, the Vietnamese, Laotians, or Cambodians would see fit to hang onto prisoners, save speculating that Kevin’s reputation as a ladies’ man might have endeared him to a female jailer after his F-104 vanished over a sector of thick jungle.

As with any child who isn’t named John or Mary Smith, Powmia was teased for her name throughout grade school, first because of the punchiness implied by the “pow,” and later–as the children grew more sophisticated–for the beliefs behind it. She tried a variety of responses over the years, from asserting that the name was a heroic tribute to insisting (unsuccessfully) that she be called simply Mia.

After a research project in the sixth grade, Powmia had confronted her father about a supposed inaccuracy. “Dad, it says in this book here that the correct status is ‘Killed In Action – Body Not Recovered.'”

After considering this for a moment, Mr. Johanssen had retorted “Kiabnr doesn’t have quite the same ring to it. And if we add in the POW’s–who are in no way shape or form dead to anyone but the kleptocrats in Washington–it’d be Powkiabnr. And that’s just too much of a mouthful when you’re late for dinner.”