My Name

I was the second child, first one to come home though as my brother, Baby Samuel, died at childbirth the year before.  So I was loved, really loved and wanted, protected, a mere seven pound baby girl,  given a big name, a name that had only two syllables. However, classmates found it hard to say. Sometimes, even the new teacher stumbled over it.  Sometimes, I was laughed at when the roll was called.  I often cried and wished I had been given a simple name like Sue.

Until one day, my third grade teacher, Joyce Hagedorn, asked us to open our new reader.  And to my surprise, there was my name in print, “Irmgard and Her Cow.” The children enjoyed the story as we read and I was delighted.  I begged my teacher to let me take the book home if my Mother would promise to return it.

Mother typed away on the old black Remington typewriter that night so I could have a copy. I promptly returned the book, this time a happier child who felt better about herself.  Thanks to that young new teacher who sensed the value of a name is very important in the self-esteem of a child.

Through the years, that yellowed brittle copy had been placed in a zip-lock bag to preserve it. As I sat and watched my Mother take "the long walk" with Alzheimers, I was proud to also bear her long name, Irmgard.