If I meet someone new, and there’s no one around to introduce me, I’ll ask, “What’s your name?” One of the first questions a new mother is asked is, “What did you name your baby?” Names are a way we identify ourselves to our family, friends, and the world. It will be with us, and used over and over again throughout our lives.
I asked my nine older siblings what they remembered about the names they received from our parents. Anita, my 89-year-old sister, seems to have the better memory of all of us combined. She told me, “We were all born at home from 1922 through 1940. Mom had to quick think of a name because the doctor, who delivered us, had to send in our birth certificate. I was ironing in the kitchen when you were born. Dr. Smith came to deliver you. We were always told the baby was in his black satchel.”
My 87-year-old sister, Jannetta, recalled, “My birth certificate name was Hilda May and my baptism certificate said Jannetta Belle. When I was 16, in 1942, I mailed my birth certificate into the Pennsylvania Department of Health, Division of Vital Records. I attached a note saying I was renamed Jannetta Belle at baptism. The department sent the certificate back to me. They simply drew a pencil line through Hilda May and wrote Jannetta Belle on top of it.” I saw the certificate. It’s true! Apparently, it was a lot easier to change your name in those days.
In the chat with my siblings, I found out, for whatever reason, the four boys names weren’t changed. Most of us were named after relatives, as well as some of Mom’s friends. My sister, Mary Alice’s story was the most amusing. Someone told Mom, if you name your next child after yourself, you won’t get pregnant any more. Mom must have thought it was worth a try. She named her sixth child Mary Alice. That “old wife’s tale” didn’t work! Mom had four more children!
My birth name story is a bit more complicated than Jannetta’s. When I was a youngster, I loved to snoop in my childhood home. I’d go through cupboards, dresser drawers, and pockets of clothes. I’d especially love rooting through boxes in the attic. Once I learned to read, I loved snooping even more. It was a thrill to find papers and to be able to read them. I wanted to find everything I possibly could that a child, my age, wasn’t to know about.
I was about 11 years old when I found my birth certificate under the linoleum in my parents’ bedroom. I read it thoroughly. My birth date said October 1, 1940. That was correct. What totally stunned me was that the name on the certificate said Carolyn Ann. My name was Carole Mae. Instantly, I knew I was adopted. I had already begun to feel a sense of “rejection” from my mother. I often would sneak into her bedroom at night until Pop came to bed. Mom and I would play silly hand and foot games and giggle. At least that was the case until puberty started. I know now, my mother, at that age, considered me “too big” to play silly bed rituals, but I didn’t understand at that time.
In my child-like mind, I never considered the fact that my mother already had 10 living children. Why would she even think of adopting more? I kept that secret to myself until I was about to graduate from high school. I had been told our graduation certificate had to have the same name as our birth certificate. This is when I confronted my mother, “My name is Carole Mae. Why does my birth certificate say Carolyn Ann?”
She explained, “I never did like the name Carolyn, so I changed it when you were baptized. I just never reported it to the Department of Vital Records.” I was quite happy to learn I was the “real” daughter of my parents.
I’ve had a few other names in my life. Even though I was Carole Mae, Anita and Jannetta called me “Baby Carole.” They, on occasion, took me on the bus to Allentown’s Phoebe Home, where they worked. They told me, they liked to show me off because I was so cute. To this day I am still referred to as “Baby Carole” at times, but now it’s with a different meaning. Since I’m the youngest they’ll say, “Let Baby Carole sleep on the floor” or “Baby Carole can run up the steps and get the blanket.”
During my high school years, I tried to go by the name of Chris, short for Christman (my maiden name). I’d sign photos “Chris” and tried to get my classmates to call me by this name. It just never caught on.
In my first marriage, I had a different last name. In my second marriage I changed my last name again to Koch. When I sold my first story, my husband suggested I use my maiden name in the middle for my published stories. Thus, that is how I use it.
In writing this article, I tried to find out more about my name on the computer. A study of names is called onomastics. When one refers to the literal meaning of a name, it is called etymology.
The gender of the name, Carole, is feminine. It is a variation of Carol, a French song of happiness. My name was listed among the top 1000 favorites from 1928 to 1971. The web site “HowManyOfMe.com” states there are 108,331 people in the U.S. with my first name, Carole. Statistically, my name is the 504th most popular first name. There are 17 people with the name I now have, Carole Koch.
I’d be lax if I didn’t mention the pet names my husband has for me: Love, Twirp, Nix Nux. I’d have to say I like Nix Nux best—it describes me “to a t.”
Carole Christman Koch grew up in Berks County and has been published in numerous publications. She has a passion for writing and has many stories from growing up on a farm to raising children to humorous stories about her and her husband to everyday stories to season stories and more.