George and Georgia were products of the 1960s, specifically their parents’ disinclinations to embrace the counterculture. Both their parents had been adamant that their children would recieve “normal names” in maternity wards full of children named Freedom, Autumn, or Elle S. Dee. There were no “Georges” or “Georgias” further up either family tree; both parents just decided to ground their children’s names as much as they knew how short of naming them “John” and “Mary.”

The result was that they both stood out in exactly the same way.

George was the only George in his class, and he was constantly made fun of for having an “old man’s name.” Kids would mock him behind (and often in front of) his back by putting a hand on their spine and gimping about like an elder statesman. Georgia, for her part, got a similar treatment but with poor puns in the mix “Georgia, you are in such a state today,” “Georgia, you are just a peach, aren’t you?”

By the time they met in college, both had enough.

The first thing to do, naturally, was to adopt a last name that differentiated them from the pack. They did this when they got married in 1985, adopting a name that, to their ears, sounded cool but had no prior meaning or association. The next thing was to name their child something that would make them stand out in the right way–bold and distinctive, but not too common or too uncommon. It took a few years, but in 1988 their plan came to squealing life.

This was how Alexandra Quint Dragonir came to be, and how her parents wrote a check with her name that she would struggle to cash for most of her young life–until opportunity and destiny came together to the door like Mormon missionaries.

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