Scars

I was thinking about scars and how many I have, wondering if I could remember where each came from.  When I was young, it seemed everyone had that little circle on their upper left arm that indicated they'd been vaccinated against small pox, a horrendous disease that has now been eradicated.  This scar seemed okay because everyone had it.  

My second noticeable scar was in the center of my forehead, the result of chicken pox.  This must have been during first or second grade.  Still nothing traumatic for me.  

But then in fifth grade, I was in the bath tub while my mom was filling the glass fish bowl.  The bottom broke out of the bowl.  A jagged piece of glass made a large gash on the back of my left hand.  This required several stitches and now marked me as being "different."  This is when I started noticing scars that other people had and how ugly they were...and how ugly I now was, also.  Later I thought I'd never find anyone who would marry me because my left hand...the one with the ring finger...was disfigured. 

But I managed to marry.  Then came divorce scars that seemed invisible on the outside. 

In my 20s I got down to serious scars—surgery—female problems.  The only thing that kept me from feeling grotesque was that these scars were in covered up places.  Nobody else could see them, so I otherwise remained "cute".

A new marriage erased some of those emotional scars.  Everything was great when the baby arrived and until the second divorce a few years later.

Another surgery and another surgery.  The scars were accumulating.  Many of my surgeries involved removing "spare parts," still with scars that could be covered up.  And it took me three-and-a-half decades to realize all these "ugly" people I've seen with scars must have a sad history with pain and suffering involved in the receipt of theirs.

Another marriage, more surgeries, more scars, and another divorce.

Finally, in my 50s, for over a decade, I found "The One."  Love struck stronger and more powerful than ever before.   Love for someone who was unavailable.  It's been ripping at my heart so long there's now a hole there that will never heal...and never have a visible scar.  I suffered all of that excruciating pain with no healing.  The hole in my heart is where I need a scar the most.

One Name, Two Names, Three Names, Four Names

As parents become more and more desperate in naming their newborns, might I suggest using four names rather than three.

It seems to me that naming a child is of control. First parents started mutilating the spelling of a name. Look at Britany, Brittanee, Brittaney, Brittani, Brittanie, Brittanni, Brittannie, Brittanny, Brittenee, Britteney, Brittenie, Britteny, Brittiney, Brittiny, Bryttany, Britanny, Brittknee, Britknee, and Britianee.

In an attempt to provide a unique name, parents have become desperate enough to resort to using names of fruits, numbers, action heroes, and electronic devices. Do you really want to be able to say, "My best friend's name is Fruitcake," knowing it's not a nickname?

I have a theory that requires a little review of the past and I think I have a basis for using four names.

Centuries ago, between 500 and 700 Slavic tribes settled in central and eastern Europe. I imagine these settlements as being large family groups that formed small communities where people had only one name, like John, Mildred, Standish, or Willow. Quite possibly, each was the only one in the area with that name, therefore, only one name was necessary. There were occasions where a child named Peter might be identified as John's son, or Peter Johnson. So a second name became common. If a person traveled from where they were born to another location they might be known as the person from that city. Remember Helen of Troy. Or they could take on an identity associated with their occupation, like Baker, Blacksmith, Gardner, Farmer, or Weaver. So Willow the Weaver turns into Willow Weaver.

Another family might be associated with their surroundings, like Johnson who lived in the white house, or Johnson White. There could be Lily Cook, Philip de Wike, Ned Shepherd, or thousands of other combinations. Passing a given name down through generations created the numbering, as in Thomas Weeks, IV.

With two names, a person could feel unique and be identified by friends and described by acquaintances.

Eventually, as the population grew, duplicate names were found, but this was still okay as long and most of society was immobile.

When women from prominent families married, they wanted to remain known as part of their parent's family. So, Mary Goldsmith didn't just become Mary Baker, she called herself Mary Goldsmith Baker. And the use of three names was established. Or maybe three names came of MaryJo Black becoming Mary Jo Black.

Or could it have been when brothers James Witherspoon and John Witherspoon both named their sons after their father Thomas? One became Thomas James Witherspoon and the other was known as Thomas John Witherspoon.

Currently, there are over 2 million Thomas Witherspoons just in the United States. How does one tell them apart? As the world population continues to increase, I recommend we start using four names for our children.

We don't have to go as far as the Royals: Prince William Arthur Philip Louis, Duke of Cambridge. All that and it still doesn't tell you William belongs to the Royal Family of Windsor (although he doesn't have an official last name) and is a descendant of William the Conqueror. For his military service, he uses the name William Wales and if a surname is used, it's Mountbatten-Windsor. How confusing is that?

Shall we name the next girl Rachael Olivia Savannah Ells and we can call her ROSE for short?

Why Blog?

One of the reasons I decided to blog again and encouraged my friend Sara ( http://GrannaSez.blogspot.com/ ) to do so, also, is that I'm tired of reading cryptic non-sentences in Facebook.

The misuse of homonyms (typos aside) makes a reader think the person writing is either dumb or illiterate. If this keeps up, I don't know how today's youth will communicate. There's a great list of homonyms here: http://www.cooper.com/alan/homonym_list.html . They should be reviewed!

Some schools have opted not to teach cursive writing. If today's youth can't write, how are they going to read my hand written notes? The notes will be in a "font" the youth won't recognize.

Will they be able to write a complete sentence with capitalization and punctuation? Only time will tell. I pity the historians two-hundred years from now, trying to decipher some bit encrypted text that appears to be a conversation.

Don't get me started on the photos where everyone is sticking out their tongues, looking stupid.

A Has Been

During my lifetime I have worked at being...

• a student
• a U.S.P.S letter carrier
• an engineering assistant on A-7 jets
• an accounting clerk
• an executive assistant for a large company Corporate Operations Controller
• a chemical technician on a solar energy project
• a software designer for missile systems, image processing, toll tags, software telephony for mobile systems, and a web designer
• finally a college graduate
• a cruise travel agent
• a database designer
• a friend

I have Volunteered as...

• a Girl Scout leader
• a Girl Scout leader trainer
• a church choir member, building committee member and secretary, a church newsletter publisher
• a voluntary homeowner association secretary and HOA newsletter publisher
• a gatherer and coordinator for high school classmates communication and reunion planner

My Hobbies and other interests include...

• swimming
• sewing
• cooking, baking, candy making
• macrame
• crocheting
• tatting
• bead and jewelry making
• jigsaw puzzles
• cards, board games, sudoku, crossword puzzles
• dogs and cats
• writing stories and poems

None of this has helped me—as a large, older, female—find a job with a large company with benefits. Many of these things I no longer do, but I could. There are classes I have taken that I never had the opportunity to use their knowledge.  Yet, even that is not what makes me a has been.

The fact that no one else recognizes or appreciates any of the skills and talents that I worked hard to acquire, that lack of acknowledgment is what makes me a has been.