A conversation with a friend yesterday is responsible for this post. We were discussing my oh-so-common name, "Patricia Crafford". I explained to him that it has only been for sheer pleasure that I've spent years going through the little spiel, "Yes, it's pronounced as if it was spelled 'C-R-A-W-F-O-R-D', but it's spelled 'C-R-A-F-F-O-R-D'; no no, it's correct the way it is, two 'F's, no 'W' ". Seriously ... I used to long to marry someone named Smith or Jones.
But in recent years I came up with a new plan. I am not the only one with name problems. We should all be entitled to solve birth defects by completely renaming ourselves. Legally; free of charge; just fill out and file some papers and be good to go.
I then took the plan a step further. Life spans are damned long now; both of my grandmothers lived into their 90's. So, how about every 25 years? At age 25 you get a shot at curing whatever ills your parents bestowed upon you (intentionally or unintentionally). At age 50, when chances are great you'll be a completely different person, you get to pick another name if you wish. At age 75, my gosh are you entitled! And so on.
I feel fairly certain I would've gone through a hippy stage and been "Breeze".
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