Cooperstown Crier - Your Source for Hometown News - Cooperstown, Baseball Hall of Fame


October 8, 2009

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.

``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.

Text Only

New Today!