A Conversation- A Crisis

This morning I asked the Gypsy King, from whom I have inherited oh so many traits, just how much he had to do with naming me.  I don't know why it only struck me today- but I have never bothered asking him what role he had to do with illustrious, ancient, entitling of the Little Witch.

We Gypsies Roam, We Wander
And We Occasionally Drink While Roaming
and Wandering.

He is, after all, my father- he supplied a significant amount of chromosomes to my unique DNA concoction, spent the 9 months of my gestation dealing with my mother, my elder brother, and a 105 pound Irish Setter and, of course, he was present at my birth (I assume).  He has been here for the previous 29 years.  He is my King, my Hero, the Bob.

His response to my quandary of "Daddy, was Kathrine at the top of your list for names for me?" was "No."

"Oh.  Well.. what was?"

"Amber."

"Oh.  Were there any other  names?"

"I don't remember, that was almost thirty years ago!" (This brings me to a wee digression- HOLY BANANAS I AM ALMOST THIRTY YEARS OLD.  And what do I have to show for it?  Scars, Debt, and Destruction. I have nearly thirty years of self-debasement under my belt, two higher degrees, and double jointed shoulders.  Those... I got from my mother.)

Cringing both internally and externally I asked... "Um, was Kathrine even on your list?"

"No." (Oh the things you learn when you ask perfectly unreasonable questions).

Well hell.  The man who inadvertently bequeathed me wanderlust, a distinctly European set of features, and a desperate desire to KNOW and GO amongst other things... alas, his most profound role in my  naming was to argue with my mother on a technicality of the spelling (a second digression- the King lost the argument- it's hard to trump a woman who has  recently delivered a watermelon-sized child through a grape-width wee canal- which has ultimately led to the eternal misspelling of my name).  And it wasn't even on his list of choices!  What's in a name? An Identity?  A Distinction?  A connection to the namers?  And if so... how could I have received so much from the King who apparently was reluctant to name me my name?!?!

Needless to say I had a minuscule existential crisis based on this one conversation.

But in the end the end it's just that.  It is what it is.  A name is a name.  A person is a person is a person- regardless of the name and perhaps because of it.  I have grown into it, we all grow into our own, I think.  I am a Kathrine, a Kate, a [insert any of the embarrassing nicknames my family has called me over the years].  I am middle-name-less and decidedly more interesting because of it.  My father is the Bob, the King of the Gypsies, Robert Albert.  My mother is Momma, the Witch who Makes Things Live, Maureen.

We are who we are, existential crisis or no.  Naming or not.

Until Next time, Friends...

Kathrine, TheBobsDottir