At least I’m not named after the dog...

A.E.I.O.U. And sometimes Y. My favorite letters--the vowels. They make a word come alive. They are the oxygen, the catalyst and the feminine life force of a word. My name only has two vowels and one of them is a wimpy, sometimes on-the-clock vowel. This puzzled me as a kid and made me wish my name was more symphonic, more harmonic and had two vowels that "walked together"--something I had learned in school.

Why did you name me my name?" I asked Momma as a kid, wondering what the story might be. I was fascinated with old things and particularly the well worn stories that went along with the objects I would often bring home. I hoped that there was some really interesting tale that helped secure my mythology as a beautiful reincarnated Victorian gentle woman.

"Well, at least you're not named after the dog," she replied to my question. "Daddy wanted to name you after his dog, and I was scared that would happen," Momma said. "The dog?" I asked, skeptical of this idea. The dog was a shaggy shepherd mix named Lushus. Really?...I thought to myself this must be a tall tale meant to shut me up and move me along, but it wasn't. Daddy confirmed this was a battle he wished he'd won. She told me about the arguments they had engaged in and how they ended up with naming me after my father's favorite cousin.

I still wish I had more vowels in my name and at times wonder about the path my life would have taken had I walked this earth bearing the moniker of a well loved shaggy dog.