Who Are You?

Morning Pages (in the afternoon)

I’ve never really given much thought to my name. I recall times when I wished it was more exotic or added some seasoning to the gifted boring personal label. But mainly, I consider it a part of my person, much like hair or fingers, although those have expressive potential to be highlighted and painted to theatrical measure, so perhaps they are bad examples. How could such a definitive feature be doled out with such permanence before we’ve had the chance to weigh in? Naming brands and products involve another kind of DNA yet do their level best to incorporate the details that reveal what they are all about. Honestly, I feel that my name has very little to do with me. Why not Daphne or Dahlia or Calliope? Or Scarlett, now that’s a name that conjures colors, temperaments, and badassery. As legacy goes, my name comes from ancestry and a first consonant shared with a paternal grandfather who, from what I have heard, was a great human. And while that’s not half-bad, I still can’t relate. How could I? I was hours old with no opportunity to earn it. Like so many other rituals, without question, my parents used a fool-proof formula that blended trends with tradition and came up with trite.?

I’ve found that people tend to live up to their titles. The more creative among us seem to blossom with more character with built-in charisma. With Hermione as your hallmark, you probably don’t know a Wendy (sorry, Wendy). And, as a Nancy, I’m not going to have the same imagination cred as Vanessa. Who probably wouldn’t even look my way. There are Georges and Marthas and Luthers and Lukes. Aarons and Brians, Esthers and Dukes. These come in and out or become popular culture at the whim of someone who won’t live with the potential disaster – of being formerly known as Dolores. You know there is a dolt who will add “Taco” to Belmont or change Polly to “Potty.” ?The bullies won’t need help if you are Bacardi, Burger, or Dick. It doesn’t take much to make a lousy nickname stick.???

As my poodles were walking us this morning, my husband and I met the owner of a tree company who did the customary introductions with people you don’t know. He was nice enough as we exchanged names, but our conversation was robotic. Perhaps I’ve been ingesting too much dystopia because I felt such formality that I could have just as readily responded with a number. Would sharing this information add anything to our interaction? Probably not, Doug, the arborist and walking homophone for your purpose.?

The heat has pushed me down the rabbit hole of history with curiosity and how names came to be. To be distinguished and give a person their meaning or to offer a description that others would recognize. How individualistic and unique. In theory, we should all have a different one. I have never seen two brands with the same name.

Like all Nancys before me, I’ve had to make my way. It would be worse if my name were a symbol; I can’t draw.?