Apparently some people derive great pleasure pairing fine wine with the perfect cheese. I can relate. Today I found a song that is quite the culinary auditory fit for today’s article. A perfect match. I am deriving great pleasure from singing it. Wanna watch? Or sing along?
Here's my rendition of: I’ve Got A Name, By Jim Croce
Loosened up from the song? Good! And now, here’s the article:
Your Name is Not Set in Stone... Nothing is!
By Scott Grace
One of my favorite emotional experiences on earth is when I realize I have a choice about something that I previously felt powerless about.
Like my name. I legally changed it in 2010 from Scott Kalechstein to Scott Grace. And I’ve been giddy about it ever since.
My name was something that I thought I could never change. That I should never change.
It wasn’t an expression of anger towards my parents, nor a need to rebel. It was just that Kalechstein was hard to pronounce, cumbersome to spell, and I wanted to travel light. I wanted to own my name, to choose it wisely and playfully, and Grace was the perfect fit.
When it dawned on me that I wanted to be Scott Grace and that there was nothing stopping me, I had such a party in my head.
To this day, every single time people introduce me using my name, my inner child and I have a party. Or at least a tingle and some goose bumps. And when I say it? I feel cooler than Sean Connery saying Bond; James Bond!
Changing my name reminded me that I always have choice. It awakened my authority to create, and move forward with a clean slate not determined by my past. It put me in the drivers seat.
My daughter and I used to play a game. She would wear a certain hat that she called the Name Change Hat. When she wore it, she would become the Name Change Princess, and the hat gave her the power to change names. I brought stuffed animals and dolls to her feet as if she was royalty. I would pretend to be the stuffy, saying something like: "Oh, I am so excited to finally meet you. I heard you have the power to grant me the perfect new name. Might you? Folks call me Froggy, and I’m tired of it.”
The Name Change Princess would speak in a commanding tone of authority, as if all beings were under her rule: "You are no longer Froggy. Your new name is Groovy Green Thing!”
Then the frog would happily hop away, profusely sputtering out thanks, insanely thrilled about its new name. Then the next stuffy approached her throne. And the next. There seemed to be no end to the amusement this game brought us. At least two years worth.
And then two years of forgetting about it. Kids grow out of things so fast.
Last year I remembered. We were at my favorite hippie dippy health food restaurant in Santa Cruz called Dharmas. I surprised Aysia by taking out the hat. “Remember this, Aysia? Remember the name change hat?” “Of course, Daddy.” We played for a bit, and we both got nostalgic. When Aysia got up to use the bathroom I walked over to a lively couple sitting at a table near us and whispered, “Would you be willing to do something that would make my daughter’s day?” I explained what I had in mind, and they agreed.
About ten minutes went by, and then one of the women came over to us and said to Aysia, "Aren’t you the Name Change Princess? And isn’t that the Name Change Hat? Might you be willing to give me a new name? I’m so ready for a new name!”
Aysia put on the hat wielded her authority. She bestowed a name. I think it was Rainbow. Then her partner got in on the action. Both women poured on the excitement and gratitude as if the new names were new cars. I was so grateful for this couple. They were naturals at improvisation. They played it beautifully. Aysia had a huge smile on her face, and asked me if we could do more.
We did.
We traveled from table to table, inviting children and adults to take on new names. I explained that these would be temporary names, not legally binding, and could be discarded anytime. Almost everyone played along and had a ball. We left the restaurant filled up to the brim with joy.
A name is a temporary thing. We all discard them the moment we leave our bodies. Does yours still feel like a fit? Might you have grown out of it? Do you realize you have a choice?
What would you secretly like to be named? You don’t have to make it legal, but I’d love it if you secretly whisper (email) it to me.
I am Scott Grace, and I approved of this message.
I leave you in the hands of my daughter, Aysia Grace, who, in less than thirty seconds, will explain to you in a video: How Donald Trump Gets His Orange Glow.
In closing, I present to you once again the perfect song that goes with today’s message: I’ve Got A Name, By Jim Croce
