I was born and christened Josephine Anne Foldesi. A bold, significant name in appearance to my timid, younger me. Rather petite in stature, oodles of curls, and saucer-like eyes, I had a title that signified SOMEBODY. A long title for a petite, uncertain girl. Named after my father Joseph, I was the second daughter of his eight children.
Growing up in a small farming community, I knew no other Josephines. I felt as though I stood out in every social situation. It seemed that whenever “Josephine” was called out, eyeballs aplenty glued themselves to skinny, quiet, me. I so longed to be Debbie, Susan or Natalie. Easy, common, normal.
As early as first grade, I remember troubles with Josephine. My teacher, Sister Mary Adolpha, often pulled my ears for not writing my name fast enough. Evidently I was slowing the class as I etched my identity on those assignment papers. Without hesitation, nicknames became a necessity for classroom survival.
“Joey” became my new handle. Siblings, relatives, and teachers made it easy to find comfort with this identity. All the while, I was loving this pet name. It wasn’t until the birth of the fourth child, a brother, that troubles resurfaced. Yes, the first of two brothers, Joseph junior, became Daddy’s new namesake. He would remain “Jojo” until the start of school.
My new title then became “Josie”. Easy and quick to spell, I was one with happy teachers. Momentarily, that is. Troubles with “Josie” soon emerged.
Sandwiched between Jojo and myself were twin sisters Anne and Mary. Not identical in looks, teachers often mistook Jojo and myself as the twins. “Oh those two, how cute, Josie and Jojo, twins! And they look so much alike!” Yikes! What was Josie to do? I often referred to this time with the likes of a past television sitcom, “Newhart”.
Starring Bob Newhart, the show took place in a small, quaint Vermont town. Three backwoodsman brothers lived in the same village and added a bit of odd humor to the weekly show. Named Larry, Darryl, and an older brother Darryl, these often clueless boys added to the show’s enjoyment. Jojo and Josie. Darryl and Darryl. Holy Crikey, would I be doomed for non-identity and confusion?
From Josephine, to Joey, to Josie, I morphed into “Jo” throughout high school and most of my adult life. Easily misspelled “Joe”, I would lightly joke and move forward with life. It was the only way to travel with my bag of “What’s your name again?”.
As motherhood and teaching experiences grew, so did new coined nicknames. “Mommajo” and “Jomomma” were my two favorites. Daughters Jennifer and Alison, their many friends, and my classroom students joyfully shared these surnames with me. I delightfully accepted and used them!
Today, I often respond to “Gramma” or “Grammajo”. Those I am most endeared to call me “Joey” or “Josie”. I answer, I chuckle, I go with it! Life is good with Miss Josephine.
Lessons Learned:
A name is your first identity. Whether it sets you apart or melds with others, there is only one YOU.
Enjoy your name, face, and what makes you unique. I now like the name Josephine. It’s an honor to own a name that had a reputation of giver and reputation of respect. Thank you Momma and Daddy for Miss Josephine Anne!
Thanks for reading!
From Farm to Table 