The name change

Yesterday I shared with my FB family the fact that my writing group meeting on Thursday seemed to be attacked by an abundance of laughing gas. There were only three of us this time, but I am sure our boisterous antics could be heard in the front office of Future Foundations Family Center. We apologized to the administrator as we left and her response was, "As long as you were having fun!"

I probably started it off when it was noted by Joyce that I kept calling Mary Ann, Marilyn. Every time I opened my mouth from that moment on Marilyn popped out and the laughter started all over again. I'm using the following excuse for the mental slip. Mary Ann has been ill and absent from our group for about a month. Out of sight out of mind! In further email communication with her last night I officially changed her name to Mary Lou. No conscious reason for that one it just felt right.

Joyce related a name change experience of her own, which only paved the way for more of the same. A friend of her husband's insisted on calling her Joann for over 20 years and she never figured out why. A little side note here, we have now changed her name to JoJo. Get it? Joyce-Joann.

Mary Ann, AKA Marilyn, Mary Lou shared a story of her own. Her husband was only given a first name, which was Juan. This presented a problem when he got to school because his teachers couldn't pronounce it and it was changed to Johnnie. This was a normal occurrence for children who went to Catholic or BIA (Bureau of Land Management) schools in those days. If the teacher couldn't pronounce a student's name they simply changed it. Everything was okay until he tried to get a Social Security card. That's when his name was officially changed for good to Juan Johnnie. Whew!

Until recently I thought my son-in-law's first name was Eugene, although my grandson recently informed me his step-father's first name is really Charles. To confuse you even further everyone calls him Zig. It was a name his family had used for his older brother until he outgrew it and it was passed on to him. He had better go for cremation when he dies because he's never going to find a grave marker to fit all those names.

Moving on with the laughter, it became my turn to share the story of another family name change. My maternal grandmother was of French decent and apparently her siblings had a little problem with English. They misread her name in the family bible. From Loure' Marie it became Laura. I inherited her true first name as my middle name and like it because it is a reflection of my ancestry and a reminder of someone whose core values match my own. A big surprise here is that as an adult Laura became- wait for it- Peggy. I have no idea why that little bit of history further cracked everyone up.

By now you all should be able to see why our writing group meeting was a bit unusual. And it didn't stop there. In my emails to Mary Lou AKA Marilyn, Mary Ann last night the silliness continued. I told her my very opinionated mother hated nicknames and had a problem with anyone who called me Barb. I wonder if she knew that Barbara means barbarian/stranger? Who wants a name like that? She had no room to talk because her name was Gertrude Ione and she changed that pretty darn fast. Very few ever heard from Gertie again.

Winding things up here the group could not figure out how to change my name, but Mary Lou AKA Marilyn, Mary Ann figured that out last night. When I told her my mother sometimes, when she had a mind to, called me Babalou, stemming from Barbara Loure`, my official new name became Babalouie. Actually I kind of like it and I just may keep it. She said it was the name of an ape in Jungle Book. Further checking that out I found a better example.