Vowel Movement

My daddy left home when I was three.
He didn't leave much to ma and me.
'Cept this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze.
Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid,
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me Sue.
  - Johnny Cash, "A Boy Named Sue," by Shel Silverstein

Justuce's birth mom, before she "departed the pattern" as my friend Miz Chappell would say, saddled our little girl with a hell of an interesting name. "Justuce," with a second "u" was given to her, theortetically I'm told, so she'd always remember how unique she was.

And if that wasn't enough to seal the deal -- and believe me, it was -- she also made her middle name Unique. And by that, I don't mean "her middle name is a bit rare." I mean it's Unique. As in the actual word.

Oy vey. Put that in your baby naming book and smoke it, huh?

I appreciate the sentiment, but I have to tell you, that's a hell of a personalized moniker to stamp on a little girl before you shuffle off to Buffalo. As far as "Who in the Class Has the Goofiest Name?" it's a guaranteed pass to the front of the line.

The following conversation actually took place between my mom and my cousin Danny.

Mom: Justuce's middle name is Unique.
Dan: Really? What is it?
Mom: It's Unique.
Dan: I know, but what is it?
Mom: It's Unique.

This Abbott and Costello flashback would have gone on ad infinitum, if it weren't for the fact that the clouds eventually cleared and Danny, God bless his healthy frontal lobe, figured out Who's on First.

This is all prelude to the fact that we've been very respectful of keeping J1's name intact. There is great debate within the adoption literature. Some camps insist that a child's first and middle names should remain firmly untouched to honor their important sense of self-worth, history and identity, while some say a changed first or middle name can be an important rite of passage, and help the child move into a smooth transition and a more confident, self-assured place in their new and changing world. Six of one, half dozen of the other. Psychiatrists, you should really get together and have a meeting on this someday.

We decided to play it safe and let J1 take the lead. Because honestly, our initial reaction before we met her, when we first saw her name in print, was "holy smokes, that name has got to go," upon which we were thoroughly and deservedly chastised by Adam's sister Jodi, who reminded us you just can't take the white-out to a little girl because you think her name is wonky. Too bad, dad. That's who she's been for seven years of her life, and by God, that's who she gets to be until she tells you otherwise. Thank you, Jodi. Slap deserved.

It became a moot point anyway, because as soon as we met Justuce, we were so instantly enamored with the unmatched individualtity of who she actually was, this beautiful defiant sandstorm, this hurricane, this little force of nature, the fact that she had a first and middle name that took a walk on the wild side seemed utterly appropriate and only so much icing on the cake. The girl's spirit is peerless, and her name, odd to us at first, seemed to fit her like a glove.

But here's what happens when names play out in the real world. A little girl who's seven years old only wants to be unique for so long. At seven, it's about being normal. It's about fitting in. When the uninvited albatross of adoption hangs heavily over your head and you have the added brand-oddity of two dads instead of a dad and a mom, it's also about dignity, and a little bit of self-control in your spiralling-crazy world. In short, it's about not having to feel weirder in any other way, or having to tell your friends why your name is spelled funny or correcting grown-ups over and over again. It's about just being regular for once. Unspectacularly, blessedly normal, with no conversations, no explanations, no red flags every time you write your name on a paper.

Justuce came home from school one day last week and let us know from now on she was going to be Justice, with an "i." She'd already started writing it the "new" standard way on her school papers and told her teacher she was going to change it. A quick communication with the school sealed the deal.

While she was at it, J1 also informed us she was ready to dump Unique. She'd been considering it for quite some time -- since she moved in with us, actually. All four of her foster sisters, when they were adopted, chose new middle names with their parents' help, and to Justice, this "right to pick a new name" was an important, normal step of being adopted. From the earliest days, we knew Unique's days were numbered, we just didn't know what it's replacement would be.

She tried on many hats. She rolled them around on her tongue, savoring, testing and tasting. For a while, it looked like we were leaning toward "Ashlen," one of her sisters in foster care. "Kaelen," "Jaeden," and "Madisen" were also in the mix. They were her other three foster sisters. It made me smile sweetly to think she was looking for a way to bring them with her into her new world and keep them with her for the rest of her days.

But in the end, she decided to go in a direction we didn't predict. She decided she liked "Rachel," which is her Hebrew name, given by her grandmother, and one she's had since birth. Her brother had no middle name when he came to us, so we gave him "Benjamin." Its Hebrew form, "Binyamin," will be his Jewish name. Justice decided, by making hers "Rachel," the set would be complete.

So, there you go folks.

Justin Benjamin Reisman.

Justice Rachel Reisman.

Both names will be legal and coming soon to an adoption finalization hearing near you. We're just starting to fill out our hearing paperwork with the case worker now. ETA, just a few more months to go.

So, now we're busy changing a bunch of pre-existing "U's" to some new-and-improved "I's." You'd be surprised how much there is to do.

For starters, I had to go to Michael's Crafts and Gifts and buy a big wooden "I" and paint it pink, to replace the big wooden "U" in the craft letters hanging on her bedroom wall.

Incidentally, there's something you will never hear a straight dad say, ever. "I had to go to Michael's Crafts and Gifts and buy a big wooden "I" and paint it pink." Just pointing that out.

I have to change her to "Justice" with family and friends, on family address labels, on her homework folder, on her little bench under the desk in her room, on her backpack strap, on her Wii character. God help me if I forget to change her Wii character.

It's kind of fun, this vowel movement. But it's even more gratifying that she's picked her identity. She's evolving into her new family by honoring her past, but telling all of us quite clearly, she won't be branded. She'll be in charge of who she is, thank you very much. And I like that.

He said: "Son, this world is rough
And if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough
And I knew I wouldn't be there to help you along.
So I give you that name and I said goodbye
I knew you'd have to get tough or die
And it's the name that helped to make you strong.

He said, "Now you just fought one hell of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right
To kill me now, and I wouldn't blame you if you do.
But you ought to thank me, before I die,
For the gravel in your guts and the spit in your eye
Cause I'm the (bleep) that named you "Sue."

Thank you, birth mom, but she'll take it from here.

She doesn't need the word "unique" in her name anymore to know that she is.

Justice Rachel Reisman will be just fine.