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.
This Wonderful Life
October 8, 2009
This Wonderful Life: A Posey by any other name...
- This Wonderful Life
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- This Wonderful Life: I can say No, but I prefer Yes If popular culture is any indication, it seems women suffer from an epidemic inability to refuse additional responsibilities. Magazines, self-help books and therapists nationwide offer heaps of advice on how to assert oneself, draw boundaries and generally say No when asked to sign on for those things for which we have little time and less interest.
- This Wonderful Life: I wish someone had told me Disclaimer: Because my son more or less demanded that I stop using him and his life as material for my column back when he was 12 or 13, I want to make it perfectly clear to all my readers (and any legal professionals who are now retained or may be retained at some future time by aforementioned son) that this column is not about him. It’s about me. The fact that he happened to turn 21 on Saturday is mere coincidence. So help me God.
- This Wonderful Life: A view through bare branches Every morning, Bee and I stand at the end of the driveway waiting for her bus and we look up into the branches of the elm tree that arches over the drive.
- This Wonderful Life: To Posey on her fourth So here we are, on the other side of 3-years-old, and it seems we both survived it intact. It wasn’t easy, but perhaps it made us both stronger.
- This Wonderful Life: A Posey by any other name... A few weeks ago, Posey gave us all new names. Or, to be more accurate, Posey gave us all one new name. Rose.
- This Wonderful Life: Are pork chops really that good? If it seems unlikely for a vegetarian (that would be me) to own a couple of table- bound pigs, it probably seems downright absurd that their names should be Tender and Delicious.
- This Wonderful Life: I sssssseeeeeee you there The first thing you should know is that I used to suffer from a snake phobia. The operative word there is phobia. It wasn’t just a matter of disliking snakes. It wasn’t a fear of being bitten. It wasn’t a simple reluctance to touch their impossibly dry, nimble bodies.
- This Wonderful Life: What’s so funny? My kids, I hope In my experience as a three-time parent, there is something absolutely, spiritually magical about the first time your child cracks a joke.
- This Wonderful Life: Who are these little girls? There are two children in my house who bear a striking resemblance to my daughters. They are adorable, smart and energetic.
- This Wonderful Life: A harvest that’s good for the soul Signs of harvest are all around. The afternoon sun glows amber over the fields and the farm stands are filled to overflowing with vegetables and fruit. We’re lucky to live in a place where we can have such an immediate connection to the food we eat.
- More This Wonderful Life Headlines
