The End Of The Stones
The loss of our family name.
As the youngest child, I am technically the last of my family line, but as a female who changed her name with marriage, the last person with my family name is my brother.
Technically, it’s not even our true family name. When my great-grandparents immigrated here from Russia, the name Stone was given to them at Ellis Island because their true last name was too hard to spell.
So hard, in fact, I don’t even know how to spell it and I won’t even try. I know how it’s pronounced but in Russian, it’s probably spelled completely differently. The pronunciation was Yah-blitch-nick.
Family history aside, I can’t say I’m sorry that I grew up without having to hear my instructors butcher that. Stone was easy, so Stone it was.
My grandparents had two children. My Aunt, who married and changed her name so her two sons are not Stones (though both of them have children), and my father who also had two children… my brother and myself… who both shunned the idea of having children.
I have given my parents many grandchildren but they’re all furry. I’m currently raising seven. Rosie Mystique, Stirling Havok, Panther Storm, Ember Rogue, Dahlia Psylocke, Kudu Polaris, and Ash Magneto. Yet even if they weren’t all fixed (except Ash, it’s SUPER dangerous to…
