Name Change

Aaron asked me a while ago if it’s hard sometimes to have a different name. I thought about it for a second and responded that it was going to be a little difficult having to work with the Social Security office, the DMV, the bank, the courthouse, the school and seemingly everyone else to get the necessary changes made.

But the logistics of name change had nothing to do with what he was asking me. Because I know and call people by their first and last names whenever possible, many people also call me by my first and (old) last name. He said something like, “You’ve always been Jodi Crozier. It is hard that you won’t get to be Jodi Crozier anymore?”

He went on to discuss that there are certain attributes attached to being part of a family and having its name attached to you. He knows I love my family and that I really value the things that they stand for and have taught me to stand for. Hard work, generosity, faith, dependability, kindness and simply having a sense of humor in the face of life’s ridiculous challenges are just a few.

I could understand now what he was talking about. I’m proud of my family and I’m proud of my old name. He asked again, “Are you sad not to be a Crozier?”

No, I’m not. I loved being a Crozier, and I’ll always be a Crozier. There are “Crozier” parts of me that will never go away. Aaron already sees that by the way I occasionally spurt off a humorous, but slightly inappropriate comment at slightly inappropriate times. That comes directly from hanging out with my dad too much as a small child. He also sees it in the way that I agree to help people even when I know I don’t have time. There’s always time to help people. That’s from dad, too. I’ll always worry about if I’m feeding him enough, if the kitchen is clean enough, if the decorations are homey enough, if I help him enough and if I do nice things for him enough, because I love him. I get that from my mom. Enough is never enough when it comes to taking care of her family.

I’ll try my best to be good at being a Camacho. I’m still learning what it means and we’ll doubtlessly be building what it means for our own little family one bit at a time forever.

I can be just as proud of being a Camacho as I ever was to be a Crozier. And I will be.