I’ve been writing these pieces since Thanksgiving 2018. So, for two months, I’ve not known what to call it.
Blog? Since I’m not sure what a blog is and since it is such a catch word, I don’t think I can use it. Frankly, I don’t feel ‘hip’ enough to use it.
In my mind I’ve been calling it, ‘that thing I do for Thursday’ … and as a writer I want to be more articulate.
Names are important to me. Here’s why.
I was born in Kobe, Japan. My father, Hawaiian born Japanese, was a military translator. My mother, native Kobe girl, was enamored with all things American. My birth certificate states my name as yoshimi miyazaki.
When I was 6 years old my father was transferred to San Antonio, Texas. My father preferred off base housing so we found something in town. I learned several things living in San Antonio.
Our land lord and his family decided that my family’s first names were too difficult to pronounce. So I learned that the name my parents gave me when I was born was unacceptable. I also learned that my parents’ first names and my younger brother’s first name were unacceptable as well.
Arbitrarily and erroneously I became ‘Jean’, my mother became ‘Ziggy’, my brother became ‘Kenny’. I realized my father had already become ‘Joe’ – short for G.I. Joe.
So for many years I was Jean. I never felt like Jean. When someone would call me by that name I had to consciously remember that person meant me.
(Okay, I was an awkward geeky kid so maybe I would have felt that way about my real first name.)
In the early ‘70s I divorced my first husband, my son’s father. The judge asked me what exactly I wanted. I told him I wanted two things: one, complete custody of my son and two, I wanted my first name back.
The judge hit the gavel and voila! – both things came to pass.
So, names are important to me. This is a long way of explaining that I want to name this piece I write on Thursday (or Friday, as it is today).
Why do I write this log? Truthfully, it is because I am such an introvert I have difficulty making myself seen. And since taking up my real mantle, just as I took up my name, I will probably need to be seen by those of you who read my books.
Scary, I gotta say. I’d much rather just sit at my laptop all day, live in the world of Walkervillians who just pop up in my head and write about them and my other writing projects than have to tell you who I am.
Again, I say, scary.