Lost & Found(lings)
A curious word that has fallen out of use over the past century is foundling, an abandoned child (typically an infant) whose parents are unknown. I encountered it twice on the same census page while doing family history research recently, and it got me to thinking about how much stock we put in identity… Where does it come from? Is my identity wrapped up in my given name (I am a “III”) or the name I make for myself? I can change my name, yes, but can I truly change my identity? Suppose I were to decide to declare myself the second emperor of these United States? (After Norton I…read on…) In San Francisco on September 17, 1859, Joshua A. Norton, a commodities trader who lost his money in an attempt to corner the rice market, declared himself Norton I, Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico. Except that we all know he really wasn’t—a DIY identity is nothing more than an AKA. (Clark Kent, for example, who was raised by average earthling parents in the American Midwest, will never not be the foundling Kal-El from the planet Krypton.) (“But,” you’re thinking, “he’s Superman!”) How often is identity, like beauty, in the eye of the beholder?