What’s in a Name?

This is for you guys out there. Something that you may not have considered.

This was inspired by my Facebook connection to my High School graduating class of 1974, since, the women are much harder to identify. It reminded me of something.

The social convention of women taking their husband’s last name is common and seems quite mundane, especially to the husband.

It wasn’t really easy for me, and I suspect, it hasn’t been easy for many women. We create an individuality, a reputation and a persona as we grow up then our “identity” is renamed, changed, in one day.

At first, my biggest fear was accidentally misspelling this name but it felt like I was hiding my true identity for years. Soon, came the ordinary questions from locals about this family, which I really had no history with. Few asked about my “maiden” family because it was hidden but I had been THAT former person all of my life. There was a brand new persona that was in its infancy and I felt a little lost.

In my case, we lived (and still do) in a small city where our families had an equal recognizability. I was not as much an alien, as a bipolar person. For years, I was introduced with two names, by folks who were “in the know”. The old person and this new one…I hadn’t changed a bit though. Creepy when you really get down to it.

I realized that this was a sore point for years, when I uncharacteristically made a snipe at friend of my husband’s family. About two years into our marriage, our first child was born. My husband’s family friend was admiring our beautiful daughter and commented, in jest, “You should had named her Edwina after her father.”

I felt flushed for a moment, then said, “Why would I? She already has HIS last name!”

The rush of resentful emotion startled me, as much as, the poor woman.

Now, I’ve been married for 34 years and I’m no longer the “maiden”. I have built one fine new reputation and persona and I’m comfortable. But when I try to relate to friends who knew me by an ancient name, there’s still a pinch…a moment of mourning, about that not so mundane name change long ago.

23612_411477303827_530328827_5007867_4476253_nSusan

Happy Valentine’s Day… whomever you are?

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Homeless chptr 5

People sometimes call us lazy…

Cats are such explosive predators that the conservation of energy often makes the difference between eating and starving. We can sleep, or at least, rest for many hours at a time.

The next time I awoke, my stomach growled. I lifted my head to see Missy meticulously washing the calico kitten, which we would call Lil Bit. Actually, Lil Bit was almost a year old. She either came from small stock or had suffered malnutrition most of her life. They purred hypnotically in the corner of the cement barn, a fellowship of females that I would never know. If I hadn’t felt such hunger pangs, I may have considered a longer nap with their soothing sounds, my lullaby.

Missy had more than recovered from her initial terror and led us from the building. The foreign sounds were plenty yet Missy stepped with a confidence that I could not have gathered. That primal instinct to provide had made her strong. She approached a group of pigeons as she may have, sparrows in a dooryard. It was not successful and we ended the day in an alley scarfing down scraps from a Chinese restaurant. Egg noodles were extremely satisfying to our empty stomachs. A stack of wooden crates offered sanctuary to us for the night. We had no idea what dangers could creep up on us at any moment. The next day would be eventful, indeed.

Love ever after…

I called you this morning,

I’d been” out of touch”.

Seems I couldn’t reach you

“I love you, oh, so much!”

 

I thought of you this evening.

Why weren’t you around?

Seems I may have lost you,

I’ll check the “lost and found”.

 

I searched for you the other day

Then I realized

Seems you’re always with me

That is no surprise.

 

I need you beside me.

You’ll never fade away.

Seems just to know you love me too,

Puts warmth in every day.