The Name Game
By Kirsten Valle
Posted: Wednesday, Jan. 06, 2010
Photo by Critsey Rowe
Kirsten Valle is a business reporter for the Observer. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Read more "Getting to 'I do.'"
Life will change in a lot of ways after the wedding, and one of the weirdest, will be taking a new name. I havenít thought much about this until recently, probably because itís as difficult to imagine as changing my eye color or the language I speak. My name, after all, is a fundamental part of me.
Aside from that, Iíve heard from married friends that itís somewhat of a process to legally change your name. There are official documents to correct, not to mention e-mail addresses. Iíll soon be applying for a passport for our honeymoon Ė location yet to be determined Ė and Iím wondering whether it will bear my unmarried name for years.
Work further complicates things, because my byline appears on top of my stories in the paper several times a week. Will readers pick up on the switch? Will anyone even notice? And Iím not even going to get into the realm of Facebook Ė it might be a good thing, after all, if people I havenít spoken to since second grade can no longer surprise me with a friend request.
Thinking Iíll cross those bridges when I get there, for the time being Iím hung up on what I actually want to be called once Iím married. Do I drop the last name? But Iíve been a Valle my whole life! Do I really want to cut that symbolic tie to my family? Or do I lose my middle name, Anne, and shift the last name back to the middle?
This seemed like the more palatable option until I mentioned it to my parents, who frowned, saying they deliberated for months on the name when my mother was pregnant with me. They considered Kirsten Anne the perfect-sounding combination, full of thought and meaning and history, and said my middle name was just as much a part of me as my last name or my first, for that matter. So, back to square one.
Amazingly, though, contemplating all this isnít exhausting Ė itís exciting. For one thing, Reeseís last name is easier to pronounce than mine. This will be a welcome change, considering all the confusion my first and last names have caused over the years. Once, as a reporter for the student paper in college, I left a message for a source Ė who promptly returned the call, asking if he could speak to ďCarson Daly.Ē Even Reese mispronounced my name when we first met Ė I distinctly remember saying, ďNo, Kirsten. Rhymes with ear.Ē
But more importantly, taking Reeseís last name is yet another way weíll be one after the wedding. Itís another symbol of joining our lives, of starting fresh, of building our own family.
The whole process might seem a little daunting, but people get married every day, and they figure it out, so I know I will, too. Along the way, Iíve learned a lot about how much names mean, and how much they can say about our families, our lineage, our past and our future. I understand why my parents thought for so long about what to name me Ė and Iím sure one day in the future, Iíll go through the same with my own children.
But although Iíve realized how much names are indeed a part of us, just like our eye color or the language we speak, they can change.
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