What's in a name?

I just read an wonderful article about names. The power of names, the emotion evoked by names, and the love-hate relationship with names. This is a topic on which I am an expert. I have all of these emotions about my name.

There are family stories behind my name. Some, I believe to have been embellished, and some I believe are fact. My name, lovely as it was (and is) was the source of much childish torture, teenage angst and adult frustration. Sometimes, families get so wrapped up in the sentiments of names, they forget they have life long impact. I have seriously considered changing my name, as a matter of convenience

I was christened "Letitia Susan".

Problem 1 - Non-phonetic Pronunciation:
Do not attempt to pronounce my first name phonetically. It will come out wrong, and might get you punched. For some reason, people want to make the "tit" in the middle a syllable of its own. The correct pronunciation is "lə-TISH-ə ", hence the nick name "Tish". Calling me "lə-TIT-ee-uh" is not likely to get an answer.

Problem 2 : - Non-phonetic Spelling:
I have probably wasted a full year of my life dealing with how to spell my name. Here is a transcript of a routine conversation for me at a doctors office, getting my drivers license renewed, registering for a class, etc, calling the bank, etc:

Clerk: "What is your full name?"
Me: "lə-TISH-ə Sus..."
Clerk interrupts: "Wait, will you spell that for me?"
Me: "Sure, L, E, T, I, T, I"
Clerk, interrupts me: "I got the the 'T, I', what comes after the I?"
Me: "T, I"
Interrupts again. "No, after that.."
Me: "Another T, and another I"
Clerk looks at me, totally dazed and confused, because the "sh" sound is not computing.
I glare. And then hiss "Let me spell the whole thing for you, write down every letter, please, even if they repeat. Are you ready?" Clerk braces themselves and then I proceed, "L, E, T, I, T, I, A".
The clerk reads it back, disbelieving. Then takes a deep breath, and bracing for the worst asks "What's your middle name?" I say, "Susan". There is a visible sigh as of relief. I have had a couple of people ask me if it is spelled wrong, too.

Problem 3 - Even good kids are cruel:
I was called Tish from the day I was born. I guess no one ever dreamed about how similar this sounded to the word "tissue", and the implications of what "tissue paper" is used for. Lets just say, elementary school was not fun, especially since I was always having to make new friends. (I went to 7 different schools first through eighth grades.) To top it off, I was very, very thin, tall and lanky, and well, tissue paper wasn't a far stretch. I tried to pretend it didn't bother me, but it did.

Problem 4 - Family names carry expectations:
I am named after some very special people. Letitia is after my paternal grandmother, and Susan is after my maternal grandmother and a beloved great-aunt. But here, the story is not about my name, but my younger brothers. Here is the condensed version of the story of his name, and the baggage I got, because of his name.

My paternal grandparents were hard working, and successful, and over the years became a part of semi-elite small town social circles. Appearances, proper etiquette and social standing were very important to them. My father, the youngest of 3 children, and only boy, was a name sake. He was John Walter Robinson, Jr. From the day he was born, it was expected that he would grow up and run the family business. Except that as a teen and young man, and an adult, my dad screwed up. Repeatedly. My grandfather could not stand to have his name or reputation tarnished. So, in order to protect the family name, my grandfather bailed my dad out of each and every horrible situation he got himself into. As a result of this, and other factors, my dad never, even as an adult, learned how to stand on his own two feet. My mother, early in the marriage, saw the writing on the wall. She did not want this to happen to my brother. She and my dad decided, in spite of family pressure, not to make my brother JWR the THIRD, but to name him Brian Christopher.

Back in the day, women were knocked out for quite a while after giving birth, so they could "recover". When my mom woke up from recovery, all the birth certificate paperwork was had been completed and filed, signed and submitted, and my brothers legal name was John Walter Robinson, III. I think my grandfather took out an ad in the paper announcing the arrival of his namesake. There was no going back without a major scandal.

I grew up with this NAME being treated as though it came with a scepter and crown. Introductions were made like "This handsome young man is my grandson, John Walter Robinson the third. Oh, and this is my granddaughter, Tish."

My grandmother was very proud that I was named after her, though she did not make an announcement at every turn of the corner. She was the only person that called me "Letitia" my entire life. She wanted me to be a proper young lady. My earliest memories of my grandmother are remembrances of her calling me into the house in the afternoons. I'd be playing in the field with my brother and cousin, and she'd call me in from her kitchen door. (She left the boys out to play.) I was expected to come in from playing to clean up and put on a dress, because my grandfather would be home from work soon. I would then sit on the "divan", ankles crossed, while my grandfather watched the news, read the paper, and waited for dinner. My grandmothers outings consisted of shopping trips, trips to her garden club meetings, and home demonstration club meetings. She would not "go to town" without changing into a dress and stockings. She wanted me to be just like her.

I know that at times I disappointed her, let her down, and did not live up to the standards that she set for herself. But, at the end of her life, I know she was very proud of me, and thrilled that I had allowed myself to enjoy some of the same things she had in her younger years, like being a parent, crafts and sewing. It's her being proud of me that keeps me from legally changing my name to just "Tish". I think she'd be disappointed from the grave.

The number one criteria I had for naming my children was that their names were phonetically correct. Though there are name sakes, there are no juniors. They are not the most common names, nor are they totally unusual.

I have a love-hate relationship with my own name. I have issues with my brothers name, and the special treatment he got because of it. So yes, names evoke great emotion. And tell a story. And affect who you become.