Just Becky

Bill, Juanita, Becky Jean, and Connie Jo Sheets. circa 1971

My name is Becky.

Not Rebecca or even Becka.

Just Becky.

To make matters worse, my maiden last name was no more exciting my given first name, so I went through my entire school career bearing a very mundane, boring identity. It didn't help that absolutely every class I ever sat in contained at least one other "Becky" (although to them it was almost always a "nickname") Because of that, I inevitably ended up being referred to as "Becky #2"

Talk about adding insult to injury!

As fate would have it, I married a man with what turns out to be one of the ten most common surnames in America. That came as a surprise to me, because I didn't know many "Taylors" in southern Ohio where I grew up. To the contrary, here in Georgia, I've noticed that there seems to be more "Taylors" than there are "people"!

So, that's my name. Becky Taylor (yawn). There isn't much chance you'll ever see that one up on the silver screen!

Neither does it carry much of an initial impact in the business world. "Becky Taylor" doesn't exactly scream, "powerful", "strong","bold", or "successful". I've attempted to remedy that fact by adding my middle initial to the mix, however, "Becky J. Taylor" sounds only slightly more grown up and serious.

The truth is my name is very "girl next door". A status that, over time, tends to become diluted to "What ever happened to whats-her-face?"

At best, when my name is spoken it's likely to be followed with the question, "Which Becky?"

I'm not sure what my parents were thinking when they named me, except there's no possible way they looked at their little bundle of joy and saw anything past an eight or nine year old girl with pigtails and freckles. They certainly had no foresight concerning the adult their newborn daughter might someday grown up to be.

So, they chose a name accordingly.

Just Becky.

How precious! (Grrrr!)

Sometimes I think it would be a good idea if parents waited until their children are old enough to have a say in the matter and let them choose their own names.

If that were the case, I wonder what I would have picked. Of course that would be dependent largely upon the age at which I was able to choose. I shiver a little to imagine what I might have ended up with had I been handed a baby name book and told to name myself in, oh say, third grade. Yikes! You'd likely be addressing me with something very tomboyish, like "Jamie".

Now that I think about it, "Jamie" is very much like "Becky" just not as "girly".

In Junior High School, I undoubtedly would have chosen something adventurous, probably from the Native American culture. I thought American Indian names were very cool and spent a lot of time daydreaming about being a Native American Princess.

I can imagine hearing my mother's voice calling now. "Come on in to dinner, Tenskwatawah!"

Hmm, "Tenskwatawah Taylor"?

It never would have worked out.

At an adult, I've most often thought "Sophia" might be a nice name to have. It's definitely not a common moniker. I can only think of one or two people I've ever met in real life named "Sophia". If only my parents had thought to give that name to me! I definitely never would have been referred to as "Sophia #2".

Neither can I imagine hearing anyone use the words, "Just" and "Sophia" together as a phrase.

The name "Sophia" has a way of drawing attention. Unlike "Becky", it requires a second glance.
It's surely no accident that the name "Sophia" and the word "sophisticated" have so much in common. For the life of me, I cannot picture "Sophia" doing anything as mundane as washing dishes or changing the kitty litter.

No, people like "Sophia" hire people named "Becky" to do that sort of thing for them.

It's no wonder I never became famous!

Oh, I'm only joking.

In reality, being "Just Becky" hasn't been all that bad. I dare say it actually has it perks and challenges.

My first name, when combined with my middle (yet equally non-dramatic) name can have a rather melodic sound if pronounced correctly. For instance, when one throws a heavy southern accent, such as my grandmother had, into the equation.

Grandma lovingly called me "Beckajean", allowing the syllables to roll very slowly and deliberately off her tongue. Sweet and thick like molasses, it came out ... "Beck-AHhh-jean"

That was actually kind of nice.

My Dad, cousins, and Aunts back home still call me "Becky Jean" only their pronunciation has a short clippy northern "bite" to it. That too, has a comforting feel, because it reminds me of "home". To the people who know me best and love me most "Becky Jean" is "who" I am.

None of them ever has to ask "Which Becky Jean?"

I suppose a name, like anything else, is what you make it. For instance, having a name like "Becky" allows an element of surprise. People hear my name and expect the "girl next door". What they don't realize is that "Sophia" lurks just beneath the surface. Unlike "Becky", "Sophia" is a force to be reckoned with!

Just ask my husband and he'll confirm that fact (or he will if he knows what's good for him!)

Being "Becky", I've had the fortune of never having anyone mis-pronounce my name when they speak to me. Neither have I ever, before meeting someone face to face, been mistakenly thought to be a male because of having a name that was unusual or non gender specific.

Now that I live in the south, I am often referred to as "Miss Becky" by the youngsters. Surprisingly enough, I must admit that I find "Miss Becky" to have a certain charm. "Miss Becky" is certainly a respected grown up here in the Georgia.

Those are all good things about being "Just Becky".

So, I'll resist any mid-life urges to run out and assign another name to myself. I was born "Becky" and "Becky" I shall remain.

"Becky".

The girl next door.

Approachable.

Sensible.

Down to earth.

Thoughtful and kind.

All American girl.

There's certainly nothing wrong with any of those traits!

Maybe Mom and Dad knew what they were doing when they decide to call me that after all. I only hope, when my time ends on earth, it will be said of me that I did the name justice and made my parents proud.

Go ahead, just call me "Becky". I like the sound of that!