The Naming.

A little while ago my mom sent me an e-mail of how I got my name. Its a short story (less than a typed page) written from my perspective... as if I had any say in the matter....

so I've decided to blog it...

Long before I was a twinkle in my mother’s eye, and I mean LONG before, my name was destined to be Anna. As a child my mother grew up in the knowledge that she had been named after her great-grandmother – a brave woman who had been widowed in her homeland Germany, lost a child, and immigrated with her two young children to the United States during a turbulent era of the earth’s history. It was with this great sense of pride that she decided that HER first daughter would also be named after a great-grandmother, her beloved “grandma with the cows”. (My mother had great plans… first daughter named Anna, second daughter named Alyce – after her other beloved grandmother. Alas, she was only blessed with one child – me.)

My middle name was a source of contention between my mother and grandmother. My mother wanted to name me Anna Michele, my grandmother detested the name Michele claiming the only women named that were crazy – as my mother’s friendships with various Michele-Mashell-Michelle had demonstrated. But, my mother stood her ground and Anna Michele it would be. Until I was born. Then everything changed.

My mother is a single parent. Always has been. The story for that best left to another time. Suffice it to say that my birth, while not anticipated, was welcomed with excitement and trepidation. Mostly she was just scared out of her mind – but, having been blessed with goodly parents and siblings, she knew that we would be ok. But I digress… this is about my name.

Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Roxanne were all present when I was born. When the doctor announced I was a girl he asked “what’s the name of this pretty little girl?” to which my grandmother responded (begrudgingly, I’m sure) “Anna Michele”. My mother, while in the midst of those things that happen AFTER a baby is born and being exhausted to boot, responded with a fuzzy “No, its not”. My grandmother looked at her, exasperated, and asked “then what the hell is it?”

My mother responded slowly (drugs?) “Its Anna…….P…P...Paulette”. My grandpa’s name is Paul. I’ve had him wrapped around my little finger from that moment on. There’s more to the story of my arrival – for later.

so thus I was named Anna Paulette....