My great-grandfather’s middle name was Sharpless. So was my grandfather’s. But somewhere along the line, the name skipped me—just vanished, like a forgotten heirloom tucked away in the attic. I haven’t given up hope that it’ll resurface in the family eventually. In the meantime, I’ve made it a little tradition of my own—bringing the name out whenever I order coffee.

Yes, you heard that right. Sharpless gets its moment in the spotlight when I’m waiting for a barista to yell it across a crowded café. I figure if a coffee chain can call a Tall drink small and a Venti large, they should be open to some name games too. But not everyone is on board with my sense of humor.

Recently, I was at a café in Copley Square, and when I gave my name as Sharpless, the barista squinted at me as if I’d just announced I was descended from the Loch Ness Monster.

“Really? That’s the name?” she asked, dragging out the word really like I’d handed her a fake passport.

“Yes,” I said with a straight face. “It’s the name I use when I want a small chai and have to ask for Tall.”

She blinked. She was clearly debating whether to call HR on herself just for letting this interaction happen.

I stayed calm, though. Because here’s the thing—Sharpless is a legitimate name. It has Anglo-Saxon roots, tracing back to a village near Bolton in Lancashire, England. The name comes from Old English—scearp (sharp or steep) and laes (pasture)—meaning it likely referred to someone who lived near a steep field. If that’s not a name worthy of an epic coffee order, I don’t know what is.

The name crossed the Atlantic with John and Jane Sharples in 1682 when they settled in Chester County, Pennsylvania, becoming part of the early Quaker community. Over time, the name evolved—Sharples, Sharpless—reflecting shifts in pronunciation and regional spelling. But one thing remained constant: it carried the weight of history and the quiet dignity of lives lived close to the land.

In 2024, though, it mostly carries the weight of chai lattes and macchiatos. And I kind of love that. There’s something deeply satisfying about hearing “Sharpless” called out over the clamor of a busy café, like I’m keeping a sliver of my family’s past alive—one caffeine fix at a time.

So, if you ever hear a barista shout “Sharpless,” look around. That’s me, grinning like I just got away with something—and savoring the moment before sipping my Tall chai, which, let’s face it, is actually a small.