As long as I can remember, folks have had a difficult time believing my name is really “Dun”. Most folks tried to call me “Don” or “Dan”. Pennsylvania folks even thought that Harriet had such a strong southern accent, she was trying to say “John”. Almost everyone adds and extra “n” to make it “Dunn.” A waste of a good letter. The only other person I’ve heard called by my name was a bad guy in a Louis L’amour western. His name was Duncan and L’amour called him “Dun”.
Which leads me to the next question folks ask when they realize that is my real name: “What is that short for?” But I won’t go into the various, sometime not-so-flattering suggestions.
Daddy was named for Grandma’s favorite aunt Julia Ann Dunaway. Julian Dunaway Gordy. And I got tagged with “Jr.” We then named our son Michael Dunaway and he named our GRANDson Nathaniel Dunaway.
So there you have it. Four generations of “Dunaway Gordy’s”. And here are three of us. We were together at Michael and Nathaniel’s in Springfield, Oregon for Christmas.