Early morning, 4:30 again.

Tryin to return to sleep is impossible when thoughts that seem important at the moment keep pestering me.
My name.

I was named after my two grandfathers, Joseph and Leon. Two incredibly strong characters, one a traveling preacher and evangelist who confronted the tough times of the early 1900’s. The other, an officer in the Texas Mounted Police. Strong, respected, mean even.

But.

As a girl who truly didn’t understand the nuances of that rich history, I always disliked my name. When someone really dislikes their own name, how does that affect their psyche? Or does it? Maybe it’s not really The Name as much as it is this…

I would say 90% of the people in my lifetime who made introductions, read my name from sign up sheets, teachers’ roll calls and attendance sheets (and it still happens) have said it wrong. As a child, I just turned red and accepted it. I was known wrongly. It was a cause for blushing and being drawn into the center of the room.

As a very young adult, I finally made the decision to quietly correct them. I had a method that was comfortable for me and non confrontational. No turning red.
“Hi, my name is Jo Lynne. “
“Hi, Jo Ann .” (insert Jolene or some other configuration)
Then I would look at them directly, smiling, nodding my head slightly, I would quietly say “Jo Lynne.” And gently emphasize the “Lynne”. It seemed to be not a correction, but an affirmation to them that I realized they had inadvertently made an error. But I did not want them embarrassed by it. I wanted to “cover”for them.
After years of accepting being wrongly known, is was a bit empowering. Still works.

My husband was the first person in my life to call me “Jo”. The only time he ever used my full name, “Jo Lynne”, was when he was put out with me. He normally just used “Jo”. But “Jo” eventually morphed into an introduction to a command, request, or demand. Always with an exclamation point. It was the first word in the sentence, “Jo! Get me…” or “Jo! I need…” or just “Jo!” From the other room. Other people heard it, hated it and recognized it for what was, disrespect and control. More than once I saw a head shake or eyes roll. Embarrassing. To have my name used almost as a derogatory word…

However! I have “Gramma”, “Aunt Jo” and “Mom”. Cheryl calls me “Sista” and nothing can be sweeter that that!
My friend Kali calls me “Jo B Jo” who knows why but it’s also sweet and her little 3 yr old says “Jo Jo Jo B” with a few extra Jo’s thrown in there. Precious.

So why am I crying about this? My name is My Name. After 70 years, I should be embracing this, but there’s just something missing…

Maybe there’s another name for me out there. I’ll know it when I hear it.

Goodness. These 4 AM ramblings are very strange.

C.S. Lewis: “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.