Does my name have a story behind it? If not, what does my name mean to me?

Yes. My name is Toni. Short for Anthony if I was a boy. My parents wanted a boy but I came along. I was named after my uncle Anthony, my mothers’ brother. He was a golden globe boxer, photographer, writer, tough guy who was born on September 26, 1928 and died in the Korean war October 27, 1950 . He was M.I.A. He was a Marine. When the enemy came he held the fort as his fellow Marines fled to freedom. He received the purple heart and silver star on October 27th. the same day my Mother died 13 years ago. The following was written about him. “When his platoon was ordered to withdraw to a more favorable position after being subjected to heavy hostile fire and threaten envelopment by numerically superior enemy forces. Private First Class Marcatante voluntarily remained in position to deliver a covering fire for the consolidation of his platoons position and the evacuation of the many casualties. Ignoring the extreme danger of the situation, he continued to deliver acute and effective fire on the enemy until his position was overrun. By his courageous actions, he served to inspire all members of his platoon and contributed materially to the successful evacuation of the wounded Marines. His fortitude, aggressive fighting spirit and steadfast devotion to duty throughout reflect the highest credit upon Private First Class Marcatante and were in keeping with the highest traditions of the united States Naval Service.”

Since remains have been sent to Hawaii and are being sifted through for possible DNA samples for identification, as the remaining five family members (third and fourth generation), we are hoping to hear notice for closure of his death.

This tragedy may be the first second hand trauma I encountered hearing about as a young child over and over again as my family talked about it at the dinner table in my grandmothers house. There were many family traumas growing up. Not until I saw Saving Private Ryan did I begin to understand what my grandmother went through. The scene in the kitchen when the mother passed out as the telegram was being delivered still stands out in my mind. My grandmother passed out when she received the news of her son as witnessed by her children. As a child I didn’t not perceive what was being told all I felt was and saw on their faces was the loss and horror of what happened. So I have mixed feelings to my name. It was traumatic hearing about my uncles death and still haunts me when I think about what he went through.