A few weeks ago, Posey
gave us all new names. Or,
to be more accurate, Posey
gave us all one new name.
Rose.
``My name is Rose, and
your name is Rose, also,’’
she said, with the Rs in
Rose sounding characteristically
like a W, as in Wow
or Winning or Willa.
I was putting her to bed,
and she was (also characteristically)
dragging out
the whole affair as long as
she possibly could.
``My name is Rose, and
your name is Rose. And
Daddy’s name is Rose. And
my sister and my brother
are Rose also,’’ she explained.
``Mmm-hmmm,’’ I said,
trying to provide neither
encouragement nor resistance
to her conversation,
torn between my desire for
her to go to sleep already,
and my fascination with
her (once again, characteristically)
rampant imagination.
Now, I have no earthly
idea where she got the idea
of giving pseudonyms to
her family members, but
there we were with all new,
botanical monikers: Rose
and Rose and their lovely
children, Rose, Rose and
Rose.
It seems a universal girlthing
to want to change
your name at some point in
childhood.
I personally spent five
years between the ages of 5
and 10 wanting to try out
new names. My mother often
told me that she had
given me the name Elizabeth
for several reasons —
among them that Elizabeth
was her middle name and
the name of the saint whose
name my grandmother took
at her confirmation. More
importantly, it came with a
wealth of nickname possibilities
— Liza, Lizzie,
Beth, Betsy, Libby and so
on. She called me Lise —
pronounced Lisa. As an elementary
school student in
the 1970s, that meant that
I was one of half a dozen or
so ``Lisas’’ in every grade. I
hated that.
I begged my mother to
find me an attorney so I
could legally become Farrah
or Kiki or Toni. Sure,
there were other (famous)
people with those names,
but there was not one single
Farrah at my elementary
school.
One day in second grade,
I took it upon myself to
change my name, and started
signing my papers ``Pinky
Tuscadero.’’ Mrs. Mc-
Nair called my parents at
home to express concern.
I’m sure I’m not the only
girl who has done something
similar. The notion of
changing your name is like
a grand game of dress-up. I
knew what it was like to be
Lisa, and I could only imagine
the possibilities of what
would happen if I took my
Lisa-ness and overlayed
something else.
Toni would add a sassy
tomboyish strength. Farrah
would add a mysterious allure.
Kiki was fresh and
fearless.
And now I have my own
daughters. Bee has never
brought up the idea of
changing her name. Perhaps
it hasn’t yet occurred
to her, or perhaps she is
just practical. Perhaps she
feels perfectly at home in
her name.
For Posey’s part, she
seems deeply comfortable
with her name. Yet she also
possesses a ferocious imagination,
which means that
she can see clearly the possibility
of adding something
else, trying on new personalities
and being someone
completely new.
The essence of Posey is
funny and strong and fearless.
I can see why she
might want to add a dash of
Rose with all its whimsy
and lace and antique silver
teapots.
As a matter of fact, I
don’t mind getting a little
bit of that myself.
Elizabeth Trever Buchinger
goes by her full name.
You can connect with her at
www.moremindfulfamily.
wordpress.com.
