by Naomi Trego

Created on: October 27, 2008   Last Updated: October 12, 2011

I was born with a last name that was difficult to spell and more so to pronounce. The doctor who delivered me made an error in the spelling on my birth certificate, a fact which was not discovered until I was grown and married. Fortunately I went through the process of having it corrected while both parents were still alive. I really never even thought about keeping my maiden name because the man I married had a much shorter, easier to spell name.

Now, these many years later, I realize that I should have kept my birth name, hyphenated with my married name. My dad was one of the finest men I have ever known. He was honest to a fault, had a great sense of humor and I never heard a word of criticism from him or my mom for that matter. He was respected as a community leader and served as a state representative for 15 years. In the small town where I was born, a housing addition bears his name.

Time has a way of changing our perspective on life. As we grow older the memories that we cherish become even more precious. Many years ago I was visiting my dad. He was introducing me to his friends and made the comment that he and his daughter had never had a bad word. We never did. Wherever we went, we sang every song that we could think of. He taught me to be curious about all things. His passion for learning was infectious. Once we visited a factory in Mexico that produced pet food from fish. Only the Major Domo of the plant was shocked that a woman would be interested in the workings of his very smelly domain. I knew that once I was inside for a few minutes, the smell would disappear as I grew accustomed to my surroundings.

I neglected to mention that my dad had taken a course in Spanish (at the age of 70) and spoke the language fluently. Later we sat on the beach at Puerto Penasco and buried our legs in the cool, soft sand. Mariachi players strummed their guitars and sang as they sat on a low wall behind us. It was the last Father's Day that I would spend with him.

World War I took the lives of my only two brothers. There is no one to carry on the family name. In retrospect, I would gladly have kept the name I was born with in honor of the wonderful man who gave it to me. Because of him, I am who and what I have become. As archaic a practice as it may seem to some, I for one would proudly keep my father's name and add my married name to it.

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