Just go ahead and try to change your name. I dare you. I’m not even talking about officially, you know, restamping the files full of official documents that give proof to your existence, an authenticity to your past and present. I can’t even imagine dealing with that – the tax returns, the social security card, school transcripts, the passport, car registrations, deeds, loans, bank accounts and credit cards. No, it’s hard enough just to change your name unofficially.
My given name is Mary. I have been called Mary all of my life. I was named for my Russian grandmother who came to this country in 1902 from Kiev, and who died a month before I was born. As a little girl, I was proud to have her name. I could feel how much love the name evoked for my parents when they spoke about her. My hope was that it would rub off. I figured her goodness came with the name so it was ok by me. Never mind that I was the only Jewish Mary I knew and often had to stand up to those who disputed that there could be no such thing as a Jewish girl named for the Blessed Mother. “I am so Jewish”, I’d retort, “just ask my mother.”
At this age, I have decided that Mary no longer works for me. It no longer describes who I am, who I have become. I have decided to join the ranks of men and women (many in middle age) who change their names to something that finally suits them. My friend Larry has become Lorenzo. Judy has become Lillith. Barbara is now Sarah. Elaine, Elana. And Margaret, the intriguing name of Catstone.
So I am now Mayzee. It feels right and I’ve tried on names like pants off the rack at Loehman’s for years. First, Mayzee begins with an “M” so it still has that soft mmmm sound I am familiar with and like so much. Maura, Magda, Maya, Mia, though certainly viable candidates, were just too serious to suit me. After considering each one, I found myself thinking, “Who am I kidding!” On me they felt pretentious.
I looked for clues. Mayzee has “May” front and center and being a May baby, it is the time of year I am the happiest, born again with the blooming of each pink magnolia. Then, coincidentally, years ago, it was the name May B. that I chose for a character that grew out of doodle and into a cartoon. I was quite fond of her; she was a kindred spirit.
So the sweet name “May” won the day and the “zee” popped up no doubt to add a dimension of lightness, joy, yes even silliness.
When I tell people about my new name they look at me funny. Some try to remember, some don’t. My daughter’s reaction is to roll her eyes, exasperated and somewhat alarmed. She asks me if I realize that “Mayzee” rhymes with “crazeey.” “Sure enough,” I say, “that’s right.” After all these years, I’m finally nuts enough to be myself.”
How about you? What name would you choose?
Sixties Chick 