In grade 12 I finished writing a small book of 32 poems and was about to get it published.
The name I chose for my book of poetry was:
Aria: A Song Written For One Voice.
I can still remember the day my Aunt showed me the layout along with the artwork.
As it turns out, I became engaged to my high school sweetheart. I then put the project on the proverbial back burner.
In the end, the book was never published.
When I had my first daughter in 1980, we called her Jennifer.
A few years later, there were so many Jennifers that whenever I called her name, many different Jennifers answered.
When considering names for my second daughter, I wanted something a little more obscure.
I was eight months pregnant, when I found myself watching the 1984 movie DUNE. There was a reference to Princess Alia when I suddenly was reminded of the name of my unpublished poetry book…
In that moment I decided I was going to name my daughter Aria.
But of course, one does not give a child such an unusual name without consequences.
Aria was about four years old when she informed me that she did not like her name.
“What name do you like?” I asked her.
“Cindy,” she replied.
I then told her that her name is Aria and we would continue to call her Aria.
Not long after that, I learned that she had renamed all of her dolls Cindy.
There they sat in a row all along her bed:
Cindy, Cindy, Cindy, Cindy, Cindy and Cindy.
And so it continued for a number of years.
She seemed to have found her niche in the family by always having some sort of civil protest up her sleeve.
…And then there was the fart dance.
Indeed, even when she agreed to accompany me to a picket line at work, it was not the fact that she had joined us on the picket line that impressed my C.U.P.W. brothers and sisters. It is the vision of her doing the moonwalk on the picket line that we will never forget.
My Mother always teased me that by saying:
“Well, you wanted to name her something different, and you sure got something different all right!”
I am happy to announce that Aria has now finally come to terms with her name, and even likes it, or so she tells me.
That’s one civil protest down, five hundred left to go.
You may ask that if I had the chance to go back and do it all over again, would I still name her Aria?
May God grant us strength.