One of the interesting aspects of being in a club is ritual. Apparently, some of my ostomates like to name the ostomy. I’m slightly perplexed. My mind goes to Wanda Sykes. In her comedy, she names her fat roll Esther. Esther is quite difficult for Wanda to control. She is always trying to escape her Spanks and eat destructive foods. I think of my definitions and experiences with people named Esther. And I wonder why Wanda didn’t choose Roley or Fatima.
Choosing a name is serious business to my mind. It requires a lot of historical research, defining, rhyming, singing the name game. Checking the initials, running the numerology. Leave nothing to chance. But this is just a body part.
People name their cars. When I was a teen, other people named my huge blue Plymouth “the Beast”. But I could never get into it. The car, yes. The name, no.
Shante and Mark named their car Kelp. There is a reason. It is a Leaf. Their couple’s name is Shark (Shante and Mark merged). Kelp is a Leaf for a Shark. Brilliant. I hear Kelp Kelp bo belp, bananan fanna for felp… in the back of my mind.
A lot went in to naming my kids. They will never know how much thought, research, and contemplation led to the end results. After finalizing the birth certificates, I let go. You can’t really choose a name for another person. Much like gender identity, each will fall into their own “perfect” over time. Oddly, they HAVE kept them. Oddly, since Nyasha and Shante are names with challenging aspects with pronunciation, cultural identification, and for Shante, there is an accent on that last letter that is left off of standard English keyboard choice.
I chose a new last name after I was divorced. I kept Stowell as a last name for the time because of the kids. Even though they were in high school, it was incredibly useful to have a last name that matched, even for later college interactions. And then it was complex to change it with work and students. And in the last handful of years, it’s virtually impossible to change to it with all of the legal paperwork around being my father’s Power of Attorney. It will never happen. Maybe there is a Divine reason.
How about Wind? A very nature based ‘60s kind of name. Shrek? Maybe Bart? Bart goes well in the name game for an ostomy. The more I write, the more pressure that naming the ostomy creates. Sigh. I’m up for suggestions. I can’t wait to hear your ideas.
micheleplumbstowell.org 