Southern Way

Southern Way

Saturday, September 6, 2014

A New Name I Need to Live up to

Even before my granddaughter was born I was often asked, "What is she going to call you?" I found this to be an odd question if you think about it. First she had yet to meet me. And, even though I knew she would be the brightest child ever, I doubted she would be able to talk - at least until she was six months old (and that was in English - I felt sure she would be fluent in several more languages by the time she was two, but I digress).

My father's maternal Scottish grandmother's name was Mary Currie. She lived with my grandmother, my father, and his sister after the death of their father. My father called her "Grancurrie". When I was born he named me "Ann Currie" after his grandmother and my mother, but I always thought the name reminded him of his dear Grancurrie. All that said my daughter always said that I would be called "Grandcurrie" when I became a grandmother. Thinking of myself as being eternally young, I just filed that thought away.

So now I am a grandmother. And I need to have some dear moniker to be referred to as. My daughter just ran with "Grancurrie" and inside I just assumed that would be it. However, when she looked at little Lou, handed her to me, and said, "Here's Grancurrie, I know she wants to hold you." Suddenly all I could see in my mind were the pictures my Daddy had showed me of his dear Grancurrie. The ones of her in her 80's - the black and white ones from the 1930's that showed this loving dower widow, with her gray hair in a bun, and wrinkled worn face.

While I am joyously enjoying my first grandchild I fear looking in the mirror for I am sure what I see will be that loving dower lady with gray hair in a bun, and a wrinkled worn face. Does just the name morph me into the persona I remembered being told about? Obviously not, what I should be thinking of is that I am taking on the title of much beloved and nurturing woman who patiently helped rear my father during the depression. She was the lady he so dearly loved that he named his daughter after her.

So instead of fearing the visage in the mirror, perhaps I should question whether or not I can live up to her reputation. Meanwhile, I'll just enjoy this lovely little girl. Who knows, she may have an independent mind and decide that Grandcurrie doesn't fit and come up with something completely different. Then I may be upset that she doesn't call me that treasured name.


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