What’s in a name, anyway?
According to Dictionary.com, a name is a word or a combination of words by which a person, place, or thing, a body or class, or any object of thought is designated, called, or known.
I have been known by many names in my life, and not a one of them, save Sabre, has been of my own choosing.
When I was born, I was given a name by my parents in the same manner we are all given our names, a tiny squalling baby and a simple question asked, “What is this child’s name?” There was some dispute over the spelling of my first name, and in the end, I came out with a more common spelling than the one my mother wanted. I was not aware of this until I was a pre-teen and my dying mother told me about the dispute. I was going through the first of many changes to my name, changing my last name to the name of my new step-dad, forever dropping the dreaded last name I had been given at birth by a man who was barely a memory. Moving from the back of the lunch line to the front.
My mother, attempting to remove any lingering memory of my biological father, even went so far as to have my birth certificate changed. Why, I inquired, had she not changed the spelling of my first name at the same time? She had no answer, and I never could understand why.
After her death, I dropped one little letter in my first name. Little did I know how that one small action would follow me through my life.
Although the letter was gone in my mind, according to various legal channels, it was still there. Ever the bane of my existence, I wasn’t able to have it legally removed because of my age. Attempting to explain to my step-dad the reasoning, I was met with resistance. The pittance required to complete a simple form was forever out of reach. Time and again I would stare at my birth certificate and wonder why it had not been done when my last name was changed.
After I married, I applied for a new social security card with my new last name. Again, not a name of my choosing, a name given to me by another person. On the application, I dropped the one letter in my first name and waited to see. When my new card arrived, I was delighted to see that they had complied with my request and I thought my dilemma over my name was finally over.
Florida is one of those states that will go with the name you identify with through usage. My driver’s license reflected the change, my bank accounts now reflected the change, and even the ensuing divorce decree reflected the change. Everything was, as far as I could tell, exactly as it needed to be.
When I relocated to Maryland several years later, there was some disagreement with the MVA as to the spelling of my name. I produced my divorce documents and everything was settled. Maryland accepted the correct spelling.
Virginia? Not so much. Once again I found myself staring at my driver’s license with annoyance. One letter, one simple letter, yet it drove me mad.
Virginia informed me that if I wanted that one little letter removed, I would need to file paperwork and get a judge’s approval. A judge? To approve my name? Offensive. I put that on the list of things I needed to get done and got on with the business of life.
The more I looked, the more that one letter annoyed me. And the more I looked, the more my last name annoyed me. Three different last names in my lifetime, and not one of them was wanted by me. I had kept my married name after my divorce because it was easier than reverting to my maiden name, given to me by my step-dad. Easier than reverting to my birth name, given to me by my biological father. It is simply easier when you have young children and everyone has a common name.
The kids are not so little anymore. The common name was not as needed as it once was. Less than two weeks ago, I filled out forms, went to the courthouse, paid the pittance and waited.
Today I received in the mail confirmation of my new name. The one letter? Gone. The last name? Changed. To a name that is of my own choosing, borrowed from my great great grandmother. To a name that fits me, suits me, and belongs to me.
What’s in a name? Everything and nothing at all. It simply depends on what view you choose to take. For me, it’s an identity, a link to the past and a step towards my future. And it’s mine.
I think I can live with that.