The Story Behind The Millers

My full name is Rachel Danielle Miller, and there’s a bit of history behind each part of my name. As for my first name, my mom decided to name me Rachel as a tribute to her sister who passed away as a very young infant. My grandmother (who goes by “Cookie,” another interesting name story) had a daughter named Robin, who passed away when she was five months old. My mother never met Robin, because she was born after Robin had passed, but she missed having another sister. My mother’s family is Jewish, and there is a Jewish custom to name a child after a family member who has passed away, in the hopes that the soul of the loved one lives on in the child who now bears their name. As a result of this, my mother decided to name me Rachel and my younger sister Rebecca as a nod to Robin.

My middle name has a pretty simple explanation; my father’s name is Daniel, and so I was given the middle name of Danielle. Unlike a lot of people, I love my middle name and sometimes even wish it was my first name.

My last name, which is Miller, sounds very generic, however, there’s actually a small story attached to it. I’ve heard this story for years, at family dinners, Thanksgivings, and other get-togethers. The story is that my great-great-grandfather’s last name was Müller, and one day, he decided to have it changed to Miller. Why he made this decision, we aren’t really sure. We’ve speculated that he may have had disagreements with his family and changed his name in an attempt to differentiate himself from the rest of his family.

The name Müller has strong German origins. It describes the profession of someone who operates a mill to grind grain (like corn or wheat) to create flour. However, we know that the first people from my family to come to America came in 1739 from Switzerland. Most likely, my family originated in Germany, moved to Switzerland at some point, and then came to America.

Lastly, my mother’s side of the family has a little bit of a “family legend” that is told over and over again. According to my great aunt, my mother’s side of the family (the Foreman side of my family) is related to Carl Foreman, a screenwriter and film producer who wrote “The Bridge on the River Kwai” and “High Noon,” who was blacklisted in Hollywood in the 1950s because of his suspected sympathy to the Communist Party. I don’t know if this is true or not, as my great aunt loves to embellish stories. I like to believe that it’s true and that maybe I get my passion for theatre and the arts from Carl, Communist or not.