Sunny Side Up!
May 23, 2001 
copyright 2001 by Kathleen Gibson


A Good Name to Live Up To


Not Kathy, Kat, or even K-K-K-Katy-Beautiful Katy. My name is Kathleen. I like it. I want people to use it.  It means something, reminds me of something.  Call me fussy, call me a snob, but I'm sticking to Kathleen - unabbreviated. It is the outline of who I am.

When I was in my twenties I experienced a personal crisis. Nothing outward - an inward restlessness, a seeking for something more. A friend was having an affair, and though I discouraged her, she seemed to be having all the fun.  I had two small children, a busy husband, and a restricting role as the wife of a spiritual leader to live up to. I wanted to break free too, somehow.

Enter a man - my age, interesting, interested.  It could have been so beautiful. It would have been so wrong. Nothing happened, because one day I recalled the meaning of my name.  Kathleen: Pure One.

As a child, I memorized the beatitudes. The sixth now sprang to mind. �Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.�  The cost of what I was considering became clear to me and I was called back to the values I�d long hitched my soul to.

We made a move about then - clear across the country. Halfway there, on the Pembina highway in Winnipeg where we�d met twelve years earlier, I turned to my husband, who had called me Kathy all those years.  �Rick, from here on would you please call me Kathleen? It�s really important to me.�

In the years since, he hasn�t missed once. I have though � been forced to stop and change direction; called back by a name that chimes like a bell in my ears whenever I hear it.  I don�t like the short versions because I want the reminder that I�ve made the choice not to take moral shortcuts, no matter the cost.  I will stay pure. Period.

But purity isn�t winning many popularity contests these days. It doesn�t sell stuff, it makes no headlines, it gets low ratings. It demands personal restraint in an age of personal rights and freedoms.  It�s old fashioned, and what�s more, it�s prudish. So say they.

For fifteen years I kept this story to myself because I didn�t want to be thought of as a prude. But I�ve come to recognize the difference between prudery and purity. Take two glasses of pure water. Add a teaspoon of bleach to one. Drink it. That�s the prude � someone who smears their purity in your face, makes you want to retch. Purity alone refreshes and invites, leaves no bitter aftertaste. Society doesn�t know what it�s missing.

An editor named Ron sent a two-word email. It said:

 
Thanks, Kathryn.

Three minutes later he sent another.

Make that Kathleen�. 

I couldn�t resist. I fired back:

Reg,
� anything but Kathy will do.


I lied. Anything will not do�including Kathy.

Call me Kathleen, please.  It�s a good name to live up to.


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