I have struggled to decide what to name my blog and which domains to secure. It seemed appropriate to make the topic of changing names my first post.
Birth Names
Before and after changing names
I was named Barbara after an aunt who passed away in her twenties. She was pretty and fun, and I really wish I could have met her. There is a cross with her name, Barbara Trapp Walker, in the annex of my grandparent’s church, Dover Congregational in Westlake, Ohio. When visiting in my younger years, I would gaze at it with pride and prickly goosebumps. A common meaning of Barbara is ‘stranger to this land… barbarian…,’ but I prefer the friendlier version: ‘foreign woman, exotic.’
Lydia is my middle name. It was my mother’s middle name and my maternal grandmother’s first name. After much digging, I’ve found it to mean, ‘from the almond tree.’ Huh? I do like almonds. Especially in pastries.
Together, my first and middle names mean… ‘strange nut.’ Let’s go with exotic.
I did not appreciate my middle name in earlier years. No other kids had Lydia as part of their name. And there were no cool Lydia songs. Lydia the Tattooed Lady is the most famous one I’ve heard, having been recorded by Groucho Marx and Kermit the Frog. Not cool.
So I limited my middle name to a glorious, cursive ‘L.’ When we were both eleven, my best friend, Ingrid, pointed out that my initials spelled BLT, a bacon-lettuce-and-tomato sandwich. Cooler than Lydia.
My last name, Trapp, was an obvious target for playful name distortion in my school years. Mousetrapp. Trapeze. Trappmonster. Trapezoid. Trapper (you know who you are). I once had a coworker with the last name of Krupa. Our boss referred to us as Trout and Grouper. Niiiiice. Although I couldn’t answer ‘yes’ to the question, “Are you a relative of the Von Trapp Family from the Sound of Music?,” the association at least made my last name interesting. Someday I’ll have to see if I can get a discount at that Vermont ski lodge.
Sometimes it was unpleasant to hear my last name. When my mother called out, “BARBARA LYDIA TRAPP!!” I was in trouble. A family friend had a formula for naming his son. He went through a slew of names, yelling each one: “MICHAEL! ANTHONY! BRYAN!” Bryan ‘yelled’ better, so Bryan it was! When returning home from our summer road trips my brother and I would ask what hotel we’d be staying in that night. Our father would cheerfully reply, “The Trapp Family Lodge!” It signaled the end of our road trip.
But Trapp is okay. Consider my paternal grandmother’s maiden name: Wiener. Her father’s first name was Peter. Yep…that would be Peter Wiener. Even growing up in Romania she was made fun of, taunted by neighborhood kids with this happy rhyme:
“Your father is the butcher.
Your mother cuts the meat.
And you’re the little wienerwurst who runs around the street.”
I’m sure she was fine changing names when she married my grandfather, Henry, and became Eva Trapp.
This isn’t the first time I’ve struggled to choose a name. When I was pregnant with our daughter, April, I poured through books and made lists of potential names. We liked gardening and I was stuck on flower names. Violet (‘happy girl’), Lily (‘innocent’), Rosemary (‘dew of the sea’). Rosalie (too close to Gypsy Rose Lee for Dad). But we settled on a pretty, but fairly common first name: Ashley (‘lives in a tree grove’).
We chose Elizabeth as her middle name first, in honor of our grandmothers. Ashley Elizabeth was a pretty name, but somehow, it didn’t fit. One day while reading an article, I came across April. It reminded me of spring, flowers and occasional storms. A perfect fit for our daughter. My sister-in-law had already embroidered a baby quilt with the name Ashley, but she calmly ripped out the threads and started over. Surprisingly, my teenage niece called to tell me how much she disliked the name April. We’ve since forgiven each other. And I note that she gave her daughter an unusual name with an even more unconventional spelling: Taylee. Or is it Tayleigh?
Our daughter wasn’t so sure she liked her name while in school, but now she’s grateful for it. It’s a little different and she survives each April Fool’s Day. She has even accepted the nickname of…Ape (I did NOT see that coming). At least we kept the spelling simple. Unlike the names of four student interns I hired one summer: Megan. Meaghan. Meagan. Meghan…
Changing Names
When I got married in 1991, I was excited at the prospect of changing my name. I would finally lose ‘Lydia.’ I wanted to preserve my last name in honor of my family lineage and became Barbara Trapp Ross. This was helpful when I went to pick up wedding gifts from the department store, ordered in my maiden name. That’s about it.
Years later when I joined social media, I used my married name, Barbara Ross. My business mentor at the time, pointed out the value of adding my maiden name to make it easier to connect with former classmates and anyone I knew prior to my marriage. Barbara Trapp Ross became my online identity, as well as my new email address in 2010 when I said goodbye to my ancient hotmail account.
In 2013, when my husband and I divorced, I asked the judge to restore my full maiden name during the divorce proceedings since changing it later would have been costly. This decision took some thought; I had a daughter to consider. I reasoned that if April was younger and still living at home, I would have kept my name to avoid confusion and angst. But she was out on her own, and since we lived in a small island community, keeping my married name would have created confusion.
And so the change began. I was working for a large residential community at the time, and my ex-husband and I were well-known by the members. My email signature had been Barbara Ross. To ease the community members into the change, I changed my name to Barbara Trapp Ross, and finally…dropped the Ross.
Women who go the traditional route of taking a husband’s name, are familiar with the amount of paperwork and red tape involved with changing legal documents with financial institutions, insurance companies and even junk mail. Once you return from a honeymoon in Cozumel, the paperwork begins. It’s a mixture of joy and ugh, but a minor ugh. Changing a name again is a BIG ugh. I am STILL updating my name on customer loyalty accounts.
Will I ever change my name again? Perhaps not a legal name change, but I’m getting good at this so who knows? The post office would probably return any requests for mail forwarding with a card marked, “We give up.”
Professional entertainers often choose a ‘stage name’ and then legally change their name. Madonna is Madonna. Cher is Cher. One name might be the way to go. My childhood friend, Ingrid (the one who pointed out I’m named after a sandwich), went the unconventional route with her first marriage years ago. She and her spouse decided it wasn’t fair that she was the one expected to change her name. So they chose a name they both liked and legally changed their last name to Willow. Although she let go of the spouse years later, she kept the name. It suits her.
Acceptance
I love the name Lydia now. It was my grandmother’s first name. I walked laps in her honor at an American Cancer Society Relay for Life event in 2011, carefully writing her name with flowers on a paper bag luminary. Lydia is my mother’s middle name, and she is an amazingly creative woman. And she’s always signed her ceramics and paintings with the initials, ELK, representing her maiden name. ELK is cool.
Did I mention that my parents renamed me? My father occasionally calls me Barbie Doll. And when distracted, they both morph my name with my brother’s. So I may be called JoeBarb or ErikaJoeBarb, These are examples of what the urbandictionary.com refers as ‘frankenwords.’ I’m glad I don’t need an email address for either of those, although I’m sure they’re both available.
And by the way, my childhood friend’s name is not Ingrid. I changed it for this article. Because I’m getting really good at name changes. 🙂
Barbara Lydia Trapp
