What’s in a name?
“That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.” — William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
I came across something the other day about my last name—Ferguson.
It’s an Anglicized version of the Scots Gaelic Macfhearghus, often translated as “son of the angry one”… or “son of the bold and proud.”
Now I don’t know about you, but when you read something like “son of the angry one“, you pause for a second.
You start connecting dots that may or may not be there.
You think about your tone… your reactions… your default settings.
And you wonder—is that me, am I an angry son?
I’ve known people in my life who seem to move through the world differently.
They’re light.
Not naive… not unaware… just… light.
They smile easily.
They greet you like they’re genuinely glad you showed up.
There’s no edge to them… no subtle jab hiding inside a joke.
They don’t seem to brace for impact.
And I’ve caught myself watching them, thinking:
What’s their secret?
Because if I’m being honest, my own wiring feels a little different.
I’ve always had a touch of edge.
A little sarcasm.
A little bite.
The kind that shows up before you even realize it’s on its way out of your mouth.
Someone starts complaining about something that doesn’t quite rise to the level of a problem and, before I can stop myself, I’m thinking:
“Here’s a quarter… call someone who cares.”
Or worse… saying it.
In my family, that was normal.
That was how we connected.
Quick comebacks.
Playful shots.
A back-and-forth rhythm that said, “If I’m busting your chops, it means you belong.”
Authority got tested too.
Not in a rebellious way… more like a reflex.
Someone puffed up a little too much and you could almost hear it coming:
“Who died and made you boss?”
And if they kept going…
“Let’s not get too big for our boots here”
And truth be told… I still enjoy it.
Some of my favorite conversations with my youngest are built on that exact exchange—good-natured, grouchy banter that makes us both laugh.
There’s love in it.
There’s familiarity in it.
It’s our language.
So for a long time, I saw it as a strength.
And maybe… it still is.
But here’s what I’ve started to notice.
That same style—the one that works so well inside the circle—
Doesn’t always translate the same way outside of it.
What feels like humor to me can feel like distance to someone else.
What feels like a harmless line—
“And this affects me how?”
—can land a little harder than intended.
Not everyone hears the wink behind it.
And that’s where the question started to shift.
Not:
“Why am I like this?”
But:
“Do I want to keep showing up this way… everywhere?”
I don’t think those warm, welcoming people were just born that way.
I think, somewhere along the line, they made a decision.
A quiet one.
They decided to be the person who makes others feel at ease.
Not because life is easy…
Not because they don’t have their own edges…
But because they’ve learned how to set them down when it matters.
That got my attention.
Because it made me realize something simple.
I don’t have to stop being me.
I don’t have to give up the humor, or the quick wit, or the back-and-forth that feels like home.
I just have to aim it better.
So instead of leading with the jab…
I can lead with the welcome.
Instead of:
“Who asked ya?”
Maybe it becomes:
“That’s one way to look at it…”
Same thought.
Different door.
It’s a small shift.
So small you might miss it.
A half-second pause.
A softer tone.
A sentence that opens the door before it pokes fun.
Maybe being a Ferguson doesn’t mean I’m destined to be the “son of the angry one”.
Maybe it just means I come from a line of people who felt things strongly…
who spoke directly…
who knew how to stand their ground.
There’s something good in that.
Something worth keeping.
But there’s also something worth learning.
Something those “light” people seem to understand instinctively:
You can be strong…
and still be easy to be around.
I’m starting to think the real work isn’t changing who I am.
It’s choosing, moment by moment,
how I show up.
And maybe…
just sanding down the corners enough
so people don’t have to work so hard
to get close.
The Bow Legged Blogger 