The oldest ancestor that I can link to directly was James Barber,  born in 1434 in Fressingfield, Suffolk, England. My son’s name is ‘James (Arthur Gordon) Barber. My middle name is James.

I have James on all sides, both sides of the family tree. I love the name: James. I seem to be the sandwiched by this name.

Diego (St. James – San Diego) or Jacobus, Yago or Jacques (and many other alternatives from various languages) remind me that this name (from the Hebrew: Jacob) is about one who’s name means ‘supplanter’ or, if you will, ‘the cheater.’

Jameses want to be safe, in the middle, to hedge their bets, to see how things will work out before committing, to seize the opportunity or what doesn’t belong to them by birth or by right but usually when someone is not paying attention, or is being stupid, or doesn’t care (as with brother Esau of birth-right fame or infamity – is that a word?).

I’m trying not to lag behind till it’s safe, nor run ahead, impetuous and breathless; to not be like a mule that stubbornly digs in nor a horse that runs ahead, spitting the bit, not heeding the bridle - on to some as yet unseen distruction.

Middle child with a middle name ‘ James.’ Living in a Canada that is neither this nor that – not sure what it’s for, where it’s from, where it’s going. (Why did the Canadian chicken cross the road? – to get to the middle! - ta da da: snare drum ripple) But it’s not safe in the middle; there’s a lot of road-kill there.

Perhaps it’s better, I’m sure it is, to not be overly safe nor rash. It's maybe most unsafe to always seek to be safe, secure, in the middle.

God help us Jameses to stop waiting to see which way the wind’s blowing, which side has less traffic, scorning others as we wait frozen and observing in the middle what foolishness others seem up to as they zip by on left and right. God help us to do something, maybe anything initially: some things that will move us (and others) off dead-centre, so as at least and at last (or sooner) we may escape the curse of being ‘lukewarm’ – neither hot nor cold, freed up from having spent too much time – in the middle . . . we Jameses.