Growing up, I did not like my name. No one in my school had the name “Jennifer”. In fact, I was the only “Jennifer” throughout my entire school career until I became a senior in high school. To add insult to injury, my last name was no picnic either. “Lamendola”. Yeesh!
Put the two together (along with my also hated middle name, which only two people outside my immediate family know and will never share for fear of death), and you have a recipe for disaster.
Jennifer Lamendola. Seventeen letters. Seventeen!
My name never fit into the standardized test forms. When I would get my results, the name at the top of the page would be something like “Jennif Lamendo” or some ridiculous abbreviated botched-up mess.
During my middle school years, I would write my name as “La Mendola” – just for a little pizzazz, after hearing tidbits from my dad that perhaps our name was changed when my grandparents were registering at Ellis Island.
When I got married, I couldn’t wait to change my name. In fact, the day I became Jennifer Covello was a day of celebration – not for the reasons one might think, but because in one fell swoop I had essentially eliminated two letters from my last name. (Not quite the reason one should get married, but that’s a newsletter for another time!)
Upon walking out of the courtroom nine years later, I made another decision about my name. I would keep my married name so that my kids would not feel different because they would have a mom with another name than theirs. Who wants their kids to bear the brunt and the label for your mistakes?
Eleven years later, I am still known as Jennifer Covello. It’s on my mortgage, my social security card, it was on my small business, and it’s on my business card for my job.
Ok – so now you know the history of my name. What does this have to do with anything, especially parenting? Stay with me…there’s a lesson coming.
Throughout my life, whenever I was facing a tough challenge whether at school or work and I would talk to my dad about it, one of the first things he would say is “What’s your name?”
My typical response was “Jennifer”, of course. He would shake his head vehemently and say, “What’s your LAST name?” I’d respond “Lamendola”.
“That’s right. Lamendola…and don’t you forget it,” he’d say emphatically.
As a young child, this perplexed me especially since I did not take kindly to the long, Italian name that was mispronounced time after time. But when I got older, it became crystal clear.
“Lamendola”. This is the name of my grandparents who traveled from Italy to America to build a life for ten children – one of them being my dad.
My dad, who accomplished so much in his life, who I adored and admired – this was HIS name. This was the name he wanted me to always remember but more importantly, he wanted me to know who I was and to be proud and strong.
While I’m still known to one and all as Jennifer Covello, in my heart and in my cell memory, I am Jennifer Lamendola.
I am John Lamendola’s daughter. Now that’s a name to be proud of.
Jen’s Gem: Know who YOU are so your children will know who they are.