Hi, all. The world is getting a little weirder every day, you know. I am finally being exposed to something ridiculously uncomfortable, courtesy of social media: Jacob Tremblay and all things relating to him.
Here’s the deal: Tremblay is not a terribly uncommon name, and it has three spellings, Tremblay, Trembley, and Trembly. According to one family historian, all Tremblay/ey/ys are descendants of French Huguenots who fled to Canada, the Dutremblays.
The last spelling up there is my last name. It’s also the last name of my father, Jacob.
Sidenote: the last name belonged to my mother first. My dad is a Trembly by marriage. My family’s a bit unconventional.
(Hang on. My brain’s on the ADD warpath right now. . . . I’m thinking about how I’ve used three colons already in this post, and that’s just leading all sorts of places. Aaaand, we’re good.)
So. Dad. Yeah.
I’m not sure I’ve mentioned my father at any point on this blog. Someone pointed that out to me at work the other day when I mentioned my parents lived in Vegas: “You always talk about your mom, but you never mention your dad.” Mostly because he’s not worth mentioning.
My dad is not a stand-up guy. He’s not the one you turn to for advice. I didn’t intend him to walk me down the aisle at my wedding (my ex met him twice in 6 years). He’s really just someone who happened to exist in the right time and the right place, and now he’s existing somewhere else.
This is why it’s uncomfortable to see this 9-year-old’s name pop-up all over the place. The kid’s adorable, and I understand the draw. . . . I honestly never anticipated someone named Jacob Trembly/Trembley/Tremblay becoming well-renowned. It’s pulling me into the reality of fame and social media. Everyone has an effect on someone they’ve never met, never heard of, and will likely never know. It’s interesting to me.
Anywho, here’s a BuzzFeed article that made my skin crawl–keep in mind, any time they say “Jacob Tremblay’s dad,” I’m half-prepared to see my father’s father.