Lorraine Sommerfeld: A different kind of holiday tradition
I had a family member, long ago, who refused to acknowledge that when I was briefly married, I did not change my name. For this person - this one person, who was my own age - this was simply too big a hurdle to clear. Our interactions were limited anyway, but without fail, a Christmas card would show up addressed to Mrs. Lorraine WrongName.
The first time I let it slide, but I wrote and gently corrected her. As someone who had only ever known me by my proper name, I thought this wouldn't be too difficult. I was mistaken. It would turn out to be a hill she was willing to die on, and I often had visions of helping her do it. It was always jarring, and after the divorce, it was insulting. This became part of my Christmas tradition.
After many years of WrongName, she grudgingly changed to Mrs. Lorraine Sommerfeld. Again, wrong. I've never identified myself by Mrs. I have wondered since I was a teen why every form I filled out asked if I was Mr., Miss, Mrs., Ms. or Dr. These labels are hardly ever relevant. I'll never forget, in my younger years, a medical person sneering, oh, you're one of those" when I checked Ms. Oh yes, I'm one of those. Because you insisted.
I again wrote, basically begging this family member to respect how I wished to be addressed. The following year, the card was addressed to simply, Lorraine." If I wouldn't go by her arcane rules, well, I simply would not be allowed to have a last name at all. For 25 years now, it's just been, Lorraine." I stopped responding a long time ago.
I have two young people in my life whom I love very much who have recently changed their names. They wish to be known by something other than what I was familiar with calling them. I instantly remembered how I felt when someone had pushed back so ruthlessly, so stupidly, against me all those years ago. The reasons may be different, but the disrespect is similar. I call them both by their preferred names and if I forget, I apologize, and now, like any other muscle memory, the new has replaced the old. Practice makes perfect, after all.
When asked to make this change, too many of us are mistaken in thinking it's about us. That we are being put out or bothered. That's backward. We are being asked to do something small, while the person making the request is experiencing something far larger. Be the person who tells the kid you're on their side. Be the one who gives them some space to sort out the many, many things that make life so complicated, even if they're not the same things that complicated your own life. Kindness is the point.
Have the grace to let others make their own decisions. Sometimes they're trying things on, but often they're saving their own lives. Is that really a thing where you want to risk landing on the wrong side? I speak to groups of older folks sometimes, though the age gap is closing. Sometimes they'll confide they feel helpless as a grandchild is suffering. They say they would do anything to ease the pain. I tell them how much they can do by listening, being open and most importantly, standing by the side of the young person they love so much. You have the power to reduce their isolation, and you can do it by loving them for who they are.
It was never lost on me that if someone couldn't respect this most basic starting point - my name - it would be impossible to trust them with anything else. We need to be the easiest part of their journey, not the toughest.
Here's to better holiday traditions.