Sunday, March 14, 2010

What's In a Name....

So, the story goes, that when my mother was pregnant with me there was, on both of my parent's part, a desire to honor the other by naming me either Richard, if I was a boy (after my father) or, Tanina, after my mother, if indeed I was a girl.

After my mother devoured a pound of pasta, she went into labor.  A girl-child was born.  My father, deliriously happy, got his wish: naming me Tanina.  My mother, on the other hand, well versed in ultimately getting her way....had, the first moment that she was alone (my father having gone home), called for the nurse to bring in my birth certificate.  Her request granted, she trimphantly wrote in her choice for my middle-name: Richard.

When I was young, when asked the question: "Where are you from?", without hesitation, I would reply: "Italy." ( I truly did  not understand that I was an American, having been so enculturated and  drenched in the virgin-olive-oiled Sicilian culture).  I also answered the question: "What is your name?", with the answer: "Tanina Richard", not knowing that most girls did not have a male's middle-name.

Without realizing it, the name would give me some kind of carte blanche into the realm and freedom of androgyny.  It also won me annual State Fair teddy bear prizes (of which I always won two) when the Fair's traveling psychic would try and guess my name (s). They never got the first name right...Tammy? Tara?Teresa?  For which their wrong guesses won me the first bear, and much to my delight, I knew the second bear was a shoe-in when I asked them to psychically zero in on my middle-name: Rosalyn? Ruby? Rachel?

I had been given a name that blessed me with an initial innocent indifference to social norms and freedom from the confines of gender-rigid beliefs or actions.  I believe it served me well.  I had no hesitation in fluidly traversing the supposed boundaries of what 'boys did or girls did.'  I simply gave myself permission to try both, be both or blend them, at will. I simply took it for granted that everyone knew they were both endowed with male and female qualities, to be explored and freely played with. Dress codes went out the window. Wardrobe options were endless. Named into androgyny gave me an immense amount of freedom of expression.  I also believe that my early-on experiences of being allowed to defy conventional norms, played heavily into my vast exploration (no holes barred) of any, and all, self-defined, creative outlets.

At nineteen, when I took on the 'role' of being a wife and young mother, I saw it as the most divine creative art project ever assigned.  I could scarcely believe that I now had the good fortune of creating 365 different recipes a year... I recently unearthed a box containing numerous ring-bound folders -thoroughly stained- that contained hundreds of recipes that I had carefully pasted into them, to assure my ongoing exploration and intention to almost never having to make the same meal twice!  With my viewing life as an ongoing art project, there were no rules to obey when deciphering how much creativity I wanted to bring into exploring 'the art of mothering' and rearing of tiny creative bundles of joy.  I saw the whole experience of mothering as one huge white canvas.  The mediums one could apply were endless...The world was my 'oyster on a half shell' and my life just one large coloring book waiting to be colored in... outside of the lines.


Gracie Garp




 

2 comments:

  1. Thank goodness for Richard!!! I love this one! The fact that your mom added it to the birth certificate after your dad left...a pound of pasta, 352 recipes a year! you go Richard

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  2. Another surprise. I never knew the story of your middle name. I do know you are the most imaginative and best cook. Why shouldn't your toaster hold flowers. xox

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