What’s in a Name?

While walking through Arlington Cemetery, I noticed a headstone for a woman named Cinderella Church. I first noticed it because CINDERELLA was in capital letters at the top of the marker, almost like a last name, and that startled me. You don’t expect to find the name of a Disney princess on a gravestone. (Turns out, Cinderella is the wife of a serviceman, whose last name will be engraved at the top on the opposite side.)

What would it be like to go through life with a name like Cinderella? I was so taken with this notion that I came home and did some Googling to learn more about her. She is not alone. There are many people named Cinderella.

Cinderella Church and I are not too far apart in age; only seven years separate us. She grew up in the 50s, born just four years after the release of the original Disney movie in 1950. Were her parents fans? Cinderella Church has a sister named Stella Cinderella, so I’m going to guess that they were.

Cinderella and I grew up in an age without videos and DVDs, so the princess images weren’t as ubiquitous as they are today. Our only connection would been via The Wonderful World of Disney on Sunday night and the Rogers and Hammerstein musical with Lesley Ann Warren in the title role, along with the usual branded merchandise. Cinderella’s Magic Castle at Disney World wasn’t built until 1971, when Cinderella Church would have been 18. Did she ever go there? I wonder.

I would love to know what it was like to go through school in the 50s and 60s with a name like Cinderella. Did the boys tease her? Were the girls envious? What did she wear to prom? Did she like her name?

Cinderella went by Cindy, according to her obituary. Was it a result of not wanting to be called Cinderella? Did her parents start the trend? I am often called Kathy. People automatically assume I shorten my name; it drives me nuts. I have always been Kathleen, named after Kathleen Doonan Zahalka, my grandmother’s sister and my mother’s favorite aunt. Family folklore has it that I was always to be Kathleen, long before there was a baby to name. When my father announced to my three brothers that they had a baby sister, there were comments like, “We’ll call the baby Kathy… Katie… Kate!” Whereupon, my father proclaimed, “We will call the baby Kathleen.” Period. No discussion. My dad was not one to proclaim such absolutes, so I guess everyone took notice when he did.

I know there have been warehouses of studies done on the impact of names of kids. Does one name guarantee greater social standing or a higher likelihood of better test scores or a better job? Depends on which study you read. Are we likely to have a rash of corporate execs named Blue Ivy in a few decades? Will there be a spike in Georges across Britain? I have a friend who didn’t name her child until the hospital told her she couldn’t be discharged until the baby had a legal name. When I asked my friend about the delay, she said, “I wanted to get to know her first to make sure her name fit.”

When you think of Cinderella, what images spring to mind? Before yesterday, I would have conjured up Lesley Ann Warren with her smudgy cheeks singing at the hearth, followed by a blonde cartoon princess in a blue dress with a couple of seamstress mice in her pocket. But yesterday’s random encounter has made me step back and think about people behind the names. And believe me, in Arlington Cemetery, there are literally thousands opportunities for this.