I just discovered yet another unpleasant truth about myself. I am obsolete; headed for extinction.
I refuse to cover all the mirrors. My creativity in avoiding them is unparalleled. I apply makeup by tactile maneuvers, and thus far have failed to scare small children.
I was doing fine, content to function in self-deception until I discovered my name is obsolete. No one has named their child Jo Ann since the Roosevelt administration; Franklin, not Teddy.
For any of my friends who are reading this, I am not going to reveal your names, but your moniker’s shelf life expired too.
When is the last time you read a birth announcement that welcomed Gwendolyn or Gladys into the family? What about Judy or Shirley?
Anyone of a certain age doing online dating should immediately change her name, especially if they are vague about their generation. Personally, I believe anyone of a certain age who pursues online dating is nuts, but what do I know – my name is JoAnn.
Names come and go like automobile models. I checked out some of my female ancestors’ names. There is an Effie, Ophelia, Arvelia, Bernice and Allie Mae and that’s just one side of my family. The other side has names too horrendous to repeat.
No one in my family on either side has a similar name to mine. My parents did not want to saddle me with the available resources from our gene pool. How were they to know decades down the road my name would identify to the era when dinosaurs roamed the earth.
New parents today who are in the process of naming their child face the same dilemma, but they don’t know that historically, the name will be obsolete in about twenty years. Maybe they should consider the name Geraldine. Who knows – it may evolve into style again.
I’ve made peace with my obsolete name; maybe I looked like a JoAnn to my parents. I’m thankful; I don’t really feel like a Bernice.