Welcome To Emilyn

Introductions are a very large part of everyone's lives. There will always be new people to meet and new names to match to faces. But ever since I was a little girl, introductions have caused me a certain pain that kids with normal names will never understand. It goes like this:

"Hi! What's your name?"

"Emilyn."

"Emily?"

"No, EmilyN."

"Oh, Emilyn? Emilyn. That's a pretty name." (Yeah that's what everyone says. Like that makes me forget their inability to hear the last consonant of my title and give them the liberty to stomp on my identity).

After kindergarten and all the introductions which came that year, I kind of got used to this opening conversation, and began to try different tactics to avoid it. I tried by emphasizing the n very clearly from the get-go, like this:

"What's your name?"

"Emily-NUH"

"Emilynd?"

So that didn't work. (Emilynd? Really?)

Further along in my childhood I attached the phrase "It's like Emily, but with with an n" to my introductions, kind of like Anne of Green Gables' "Anne with an e". I never really liked that either because I had sort of developed a grudge against all Emilys. See, if the Emily community didn't exist, people wouldn't just jump to the conclusion that I was one of them. No offence to any Emilys out there, but you all made my childhood miserable.

Just recently I had an interesting encounter while taking surveys at the call center I work at. (Yeah, yeah I work at a call center. Get over it.) Most survey introductions at this place begin something like, "Hello, my name is Emilyn Cannon on behalf of so-and-so-company, and we're taking a brief survey about such-and-such. Is this a good time for you?" At which time the respondent on the line has the opportunity to sigh and subject themselves to the "brief" fifteen survey minutes ahead of them, swear in my ear and go off about how much of an idiot I am to call at dinnertime, (Wait, let's think about this. Who's the one who answered the phone in the middle of dinner?) or politely explain their disinterest in taking the survey. This particular time I encountered a lady who preferred the last option. Although I insisted the survey would only take a short time and expressed our extensive value in her opinions and input, she further honestly stated she wished to not be called again. I told her I understood and thanked her for her time.

"Thanks Emily. Bu-bye." And she hung up.

Any other time I would have ended the call and entered the correct disposition for the circumstance, but there was something in the way this woman spoke that made me pause. She spoke so kindly, and seemed to relate so perfectly to how I was feeling. I think it was the familiarity in the way she had addressed me that was simply astounding. I honestly stopped my absent-minded swiveling in my chair to sit a moment with my mouth ajar and reflect on this moment. I had been calling people all day who maybe even took the survey, but never once thought about who I was, what I was doing, much less what my name was. This woman shot understanding straight into my heart just by acknowledging that I had a name. I felt like she knew me! I felt loved and accepted, like I had somehow been welcomed into her world as a human being, a person, and maybe even a friend.

Except she had called me Emily, and this fact almost brought me to tears.

Why couldn't I have a name that people recognize? One that can be easily picked out through mumbling lips? One people can relate to even when they know nothing about your life save your voice over the telephone lines? N; oh thou cursed letter! Be thou heretofore called shame!

On the bike-ride home, I pondered my name for neither the first, nor the last time. Emilyn. It really is quite pretty. And I can't ignore the fact that because of my name's uniqueness, I've hardly had to deal with the issue of attaching my last initial to my name to prevent confusion. So just when I had about pedaled to the top of Center Street and begun rolling along Canal Drive towards home, I reached a conclusion. I had already come to grips years ago with the fact that there was nothing I could do to escape my name and the slightly awkward introductions it's sure to bring, so that was nothing new. But I realized, in addition, that this Emily part is only the beginning. I am the N at the end of my name, and that is something I am willing to fight for. I can't escape the Emily that I will always be seen as at first. But as I do and say and be, and people realize who I am, they will have to face that little N because I'm gonna give it all it's worth. Finally, after 18 years of anguish and awkwardidity, I can greet this finishing letter with an open hand, and together we can gallop into the sunrise of who I can become.

Anyway, I originally thought about naming my blog Emily with an n, but then the URL would be emilywithann.blogspot.com which looks like Emily with Ann, and though that does have a little allusion to the Anne of Green Gables, it is missing the e, and it's mostly just confusing. It's like, who's Ann? So, no. But I have taken a big step towards this new identity of mine by singling out both the Emily and the N in my title. Clever? I know.

Let me also take a moment to say hooray! I've finally finished my first post! Welcome to my blog one and all, (yes, even you Emilys) and I hope you enjoy the minutes you may spend here.