"What's in a Name?"

“...that which we call a rose. By any other name would smell as sweet." You have to give it to Shakespeare – deep and interesting statement.

Some people’s names were already chosen maybe 10 or 20 years before they were born. In this case, usually this name had followed a woman through the early years as she imagines what her future family will be like. She can’t name her husband…but her kids, that’s another story. Many have names that had been rolled over tongues, spoken out loud, analyzed every which way, or simply inherited through the family lineage within the nine months prior to birth. And then the remaining names were decided after being held, viewed, sniffed, touched, and covered with kisses by very proud and excited new-born-parents.

We have no input. We are given a name and then must either live up to it, shake the image of it, or just go with it.

My experience as a parent was the second example. It was during pregnancy that my son's name was decided. It was the rolling off the tongue, receiving the approval of a very dear but critiquing friend, and visualizing what others would think of when saying the name. That name being Logan. My image was of a handsome boy that the girls would swoon over with breathy voices as they say “Logan.” And the other image was of boys saying “It’s Logan – get him!” as they chase him. (My image was always of a Casanova loved by some and envied by others.) When I later learned of Logan-the-Lifeguard from Baywatch and Logan-the-Comic-Book-Hero a.k.a. Wolverine that I realized it fit my child. My swimmer and formerly long-haired rough-and-tumble boy is a Logan. As he now begins his 12th year of school, including preschool, he has been the only Logan in his grade and in his schools that we know of. I’m happy to say that he likes his name. The only thing that wasn’t really considered is there is no nickname for him. Though that doesn’t stop me from calling him Loag. (He hates when I write it like that which I’ve only started doing because of cell phones. I save a letter by shortening it. Come on – “Log” wouldn’t read right.)

Now on to my name - Karen. This is a derivative of Catherine which mean pure. Ha ha. Pure. Now I do consider myself a Snow White want-to-be as I feed the forest animals each day. Yes, forest animals – birds and squirrels. My heart is pure too. Maybe that’s where it comes from. This name was chosen for me for two reasons. One being that my older sister’s name begins with a K – Kristina. The second reason was both of our names were international known to our family and friends in Germany and Norway. Pronunciation is another story. In NY, it’s Kaa-ren with a flat “a.” In Germany, it s Carr-in with a rolling “r.” And in Norway, it’s pronounced Carn taking away the "e" and making it one syllable. No matter, all versions worked for me through the years.

It is now that I am hitting part three of my life (youth, parenthood, and now the soul searching phase) that I may reinvent myself. Maybe not reinvent myself but shed a little bit of the old me away and welcome in the new. With that, I have slowly begun changing my name. Okay, okay, it was only yesterday at Starbucks. I usually would give them my porn-name Zelda. Just kidding about the porn, but I really would say Zelda to the barista. There was never a second Zelda waiting in the crowd for their skinny pumpkin spice latte with extra cinnamon. I baptized myself with a regular pumpkin spice latte with extra cream and gave the name…Ren. I felt grown up. I felt reborn. I felt like an idiot when they said “Rem? Rem? Grande Pumpkin Spice Latte? "

So as of now, I remain up in the air if Shakespeare was right and a Karen by any other name is still a Karen.

To be continued. Come back and visit blog in January when I host a “Rebirthing Party” for my dear friends as we embrace 2012 and all the new beginnings available to us.

Signed…Ren (what the heck!)