Thank you for noticing the dress. As a rule, I hated dresses, but I REALLY liked that one. I'm pretty sure I picked it out. And if I didn't, one of my parent's superpowers was excellent taste. When you have two fashion designers as your mom and dad, and they have good taste, you're always gonna look good, until teenage rebellion kicks in, the dress codes get lifted, and you spend the rest of your teen years wearing overalls, orange sneaks, and Annie Hall vests and ties! xo
Names matter. We once adopted a dog, a cute shaggy mixed terrier with large black and white patches. Someone had named him Bozo, which felt so disrespectful, We renamed him Arthur, to afford him some dignity.
Imagine naming a cat Barracuda! So wrong. Yay, Berry.
Indeed! I had 2 cats at the same time, each named Frankie. I adopted them quite a few years apart, but I thought it would be wrong to rename them, or one of them, because of the other. Those were their names. So, one was called Big Frankie and the other, Little Frankie. Little died before Big, but I never stopped calling Big Frankie, Big Frankie. It stuck. And then of course, there was my gay dad, whose name was Sid. At one point he was seeing a man with the same name, so dad was Sid, and the other Sid was called The Other Sid, T.O.S. for short. Yikes!
Nan, this brought tears to my eyes, resonated with me on many levels. Regarding names....I work with rescue cats with TTouch, Reiki and other modalities, and sometimes they are given names that don't feel right, and that create a negative picture of the animal. I will always change the name of the animal to one with a more positive feeling, that will help the cat and everyone around them start to see the animal in the beautiful light that they deserve. One cat I worked with for a long time was named Barracuda by the shelter, as she was terrified and hissing due to change of environment, being brought in from outside. She didn't know if she was safe, and had never lived an indoor life before. I started calling her Berry, and over time, even the people who originally called her Barracuda started calling her Berry as well. Meanwhile, through the work I was doing with her, she came out of her shell and was physically and behaviorally almost unrecognizable from when first brought in. She had realized that humans could be all right and that she was safe. She was so happy and beautiful, she was glowing. Changing her name felt like the first step in that process. Even if the rescue people keep the name I don't like, I will always keep calling the animal by the name that feels like theirs.
Something else, on a personal level, growing up I was extremely shy, and always felt I didn't belong, that I was different. It took me years to realize that being different was ok. I had a huge loss as a very young child and that felt like it separated me on an additional level. When you speak about those moments of really feeling seen, feeling understood, being appreciated for being you, that really hit home with me. Certainly my parents and family members and certain friends had that connection with me, but in the outside world, like school, those experiences felt pretty rare, particularly in my earlier days. Thank you so much for sharing your experiences with such honesty and love.
My Lola (my Filipino grandmother) always called me Julie Rose. Never “Julie,” always Julie Rose. I was named after her, though her name was technically Julia (the “Rose” in my name comes from my other grandmother and her mother: my Italian great-grandmother Rosalia). I didn’t realize until Lola’s funeral reception, where a relative was passing around old signed photos of her, that Lola only ever went by “Julie” with the people she loved. And finally, I understood why I was always “Julie Rose.” It was her name for me: to differentiate me from her and connect me to her, all at once. She’s been gone 10 years now, and I don’t have my family of origin anymore. But there are still some in my chosen family, who call me “Julie Rose,” and every time I hear it, I feel like I’ve come home.
Names are so important, especially the ones that bring us home to ourselves. Thank you, Nan, for this healing post.
What a lovely story. Your grandmother sounds wonderful. I called my maternal grandmother, Meme. None of my cousins called her that. It was my name for her. The naming we do is so important. Lola embraced you in a special way. You had that bond. Not having had children, I always wonder how people can just a pick a name for a person they don't even know. It's a funny business! xo
Names are so important!! I’m Cathy - just Cathy. Teachers always thought I failed at answering the “what’s your full name” question. It often seems like a diminished version of a name that has been with us for centuries. Maybe that’s why my third grade teacher, Mrs. Rainbow (I am not making that up!), gave me a new one. Why she called me Patsy I will never know. It’s not a name that resonated with me, but it felt like a hug each time she said it. No one else used it - just her. It was ours. Thank you for prompting that memory, Nan. Wonderful post!
I love that. Patsy! So sweet. I believe you about not making that up, Mrs. Rainbow. I have a friend with that last name. I thought she made it up, but it was the family name. For years. Her parents WERE hippies though, so it IS somewhat suspicious.
I love knowing there are other Rainbows in the world!! My Mrs. Rainbow was most definitely not a hippie. My mother once told me that I came home from my first day of third grade feeling so unhappy that I had such an old teacher. I remember greying hair but didn’t know hair can change color from a fairly young age. She quickly became my favorite teacher. Just thinking about her makes me smile. ☺️
Nice. I'm still in touch with my first grade teacher, Miss Seidman. She reads my posts every week. How cool is that? Sadly, Mrs. Bloomrosen's been gone for quite a while. I'm still in touch with her son, though, who I went on one date with when we were in high school. It didn't work out. We're both gay! xo
Indeed. Mildred Bloomrosen (Millie was the name she liked to be called) was one of the best teacher (if not the best) I ever had. I adored her completely. Nancy is SO NOT my name. It never was. xo
Neither of my daughters kept the names we gave them. One, Mary Katharine, whom we called Kate, decided when she was four years old that her name was Maggie, and she corrected us until we called her that. We called the other one, Elizabeth Anne, Liza. She later changed the spelling to Lyza and to get the name on her drivers license changed it officially to Lyza Danger Gardner. Now her middle name is Danger.
How cool to hear about your early realization of how you wanted to put yourself out there....I can't imagine you as anything but NAN.
ps your outfit is bordering on Shakespearean. Way to show those other kids how to slay ❤️
Thank you for noticing the dress. As a rule, I hated dresses, but I REALLY liked that one. I'm pretty sure I picked it out. And if I didn't, one of my parent's superpowers was excellent taste. When you have two fashion designers as your mom and dad, and they have good taste, you're always gonna look good, until teenage rebellion kicks in, the dress codes get lifted, and you spend the rest of your teen years wearing overalls, orange sneaks, and Annie Hall vests and ties! xo
Just lovely!
Names matter. We once adopted a dog, a cute shaggy mixed terrier with large black and white patches. Someone had named him Bozo, which felt so disrespectful, We renamed him Arthur, to afford him some dignity.
Imagine naming a cat Barracuda! So wrong. Yay, Berry.
Indeed! I had 2 cats at the same time, each named Frankie. I adopted them quite a few years apart, but I thought it would be wrong to rename them, or one of them, because of the other. Those were their names. So, one was called Big Frankie and the other, Little Frankie. Little died before Big, but I never stopped calling Big Frankie, Big Frankie. It stuck. And then of course, there was my gay dad, whose name was Sid. At one point he was seeing a man with the same name, so dad was Sid, and the other Sid was called The Other Sid, T.O.S. for short. Yikes!
Chuckling!
Nan, this brought tears to my eyes, resonated with me on many levels. Regarding names....I work with rescue cats with TTouch, Reiki and other modalities, and sometimes they are given names that don't feel right, and that create a negative picture of the animal. I will always change the name of the animal to one with a more positive feeling, that will help the cat and everyone around them start to see the animal in the beautiful light that they deserve. One cat I worked with for a long time was named Barracuda by the shelter, as she was terrified and hissing due to change of environment, being brought in from outside. She didn't know if she was safe, and had never lived an indoor life before. I started calling her Berry, and over time, even the people who originally called her Barracuda started calling her Berry as well. Meanwhile, through the work I was doing with her, she came out of her shell and was physically and behaviorally almost unrecognizable from when first brought in. She had realized that humans could be all right and that she was safe. She was so happy and beautiful, she was glowing. Changing her name felt like the first step in that process. Even if the rescue people keep the name I don't like, I will always keep calling the animal by the name that feels like theirs.
Something else, on a personal level, growing up I was extremely shy, and always felt I didn't belong, that I was different. It took me years to realize that being different was ok. I had a huge loss as a very young child and that felt like it separated me on an additional level. When you speak about those moments of really feeling seen, feeling understood, being appreciated for being you, that really hit home with me. Certainly my parents and family members and certain friends had that connection with me, but in the outside world, like school, those experiences felt pretty rare, particularly in my earlier days. Thank you so much for sharing your experiences with such honesty and love.
My Lola (my Filipino grandmother) always called me Julie Rose. Never “Julie,” always Julie Rose. I was named after her, though her name was technically Julia (the “Rose” in my name comes from my other grandmother and her mother: my Italian great-grandmother Rosalia). I didn’t realize until Lola’s funeral reception, where a relative was passing around old signed photos of her, that Lola only ever went by “Julie” with the people she loved. And finally, I understood why I was always “Julie Rose.” It was her name for me: to differentiate me from her and connect me to her, all at once. She’s been gone 10 years now, and I don’t have my family of origin anymore. But there are still some in my chosen family, who call me “Julie Rose,” and every time I hear it, I feel like I’ve come home.
Names are so important, especially the ones that bring us home to ourselves. Thank you, Nan, for this healing post.
What a lovely story. Your grandmother sounds wonderful. I called my maternal grandmother, Meme. None of my cousins called her that. It was my name for her. The naming we do is so important. Lola embraced you in a special way. You had that bond. Not having had children, I always wonder how people can just a pick a name for a person they don't even know. It's a funny business! xo
Names are so important!! I’m Cathy - just Cathy. Teachers always thought I failed at answering the “what’s your full name” question. It often seems like a diminished version of a name that has been with us for centuries. Maybe that’s why my third grade teacher, Mrs. Rainbow (I am not making that up!), gave me a new one. Why she called me Patsy I will never know. It’s not a name that resonated with me, but it felt like a hug each time she said it. No one else used it - just her. It was ours. Thank you for prompting that memory, Nan. Wonderful post!
I love that. Patsy! So sweet. I believe you about not making that up, Mrs. Rainbow. I have a friend with that last name. I thought she made it up, but it was the family name. For years. Her parents WERE hippies though, so it IS somewhat suspicious.
I love knowing there are other Rainbows in the world!! My Mrs. Rainbow was most definitely not a hippie. My mother once told me that I came home from my first day of third grade feeling so unhappy that I had such an old teacher. I remember greying hair but didn’t know hair can change color from a fairly young age. She quickly became my favorite teacher. Just thinking about her makes me smile. ☺️
Nice. I'm still in touch with my first grade teacher, Miss Seidman. She reads my posts every week. How cool is that? Sadly, Mrs. Bloomrosen's been gone for quite a while. I'm still in touch with her son, though, who I went on one date with when we were in high school. It didn't work out. We're both gay! xo
VERY cool!! 💕
NANCY was the name of a comic book character who was the NAN ish character you like without the drama.
What drama? Mine? Are you talking about Nancy whose boyfriend's name was Sluggo? I hated that comic. It was dull, no drama!
This is wonderful, Nan. 💜
Thanks, Troy! xo
So THAT’S how you became Nan. Thank you, Mrs. Bloomrosen (another great name), for signaling that Nancy would never do.
Indeed. Mildred Bloomrosen (Millie was the name she liked to be called) was one of the best teacher (if not the best) I ever had. I adored her completely. Nancy is SO NOT my name. It never was. xo
Loved this essay, Nan. Such a positive contemplation of personal growth. Inspiring.
Thanks, David! xo
Neither of my daughters kept the names we gave them. One, Mary Katharine, whom we called Kate, decided when she was four years old that her name was Maggie, and she corrected us until we called her that. We called the other one, Elizabeth Anne, Liza. She later changed the spelling to Lyza and to get the name on her drivers license changed it officially to Lyza Danger Gardner. Now her middle name is Danger.
I am glad you are Nan now.
Danger? I love that! Now I need a new middle name. Oy. I'm glad I'm Nan, too. xo