My Mom – a Terrorist?

My mother may be viewed as a Terrorist! Yikes!!

In the next few weeks my 88 year old mother will be possibly getting her new passport. Her old one has lapsed and in order to fly now she needs the new passport.

So we began the journey toward the completion of the forms.

But she is not who I thought she was. I mean her identity has been radically changed over the years. And I mean radically.

Some background that you need to know about her generation is as follows. She hails from southern Saskatchewan which should be a hint. In southern Sask. they tended to rename their kids something else – even though they were given a full name to start with.

For example – you will find names like “Skip”, “Shorty”, and “Abby” – instead of Bill, John and George. In fact people that know “Skip”, “Shorty”, and “Abby” would never know how to tell some one that may ask where Bill, John and George lived.

Name changes were common and often very funny. And I believe that wasn’t just a southern Sask kind of thing. It happened lots in the 1930s and 1940s.

As I grew up my mom was “Nell”. All my time at home – she was Nell. He brothers and sisters called her “Nellie” – which I took as a kind of endearment for their older sister. My dad called her Nell. I didn’t dare as that was considered “cheeky” and she was to be addressed as “Mom”.

Seven years ago Mom moved from her own home of many years to an apartment building. In the building was an active group of seniors that met each morning for coffee in the party room on the first floor.

I have different stories as of this date to how the name change took place seven years ago….

But first – how I discovered it…

I came into the elevator of the apartment building and pushed #9. There were three old ladies on the elevator – and all of them knew that I didn’t belong in the building… and they knew who lived on the 9th floor as well. As the elevator started its upward journey – one asked, “Are you Marion’s son?” I didn’t reply but watched the ascending numbers. The dear lady asked again, “Are you Marion’s son? Marion lives in apartment #901 ?”

It was then that I clewed in. My mom has a new name… or is known by a new name at that point.

Well the first story that I heard was that the residents congregate at the mail boxes waiting for the mailman. Mom was waiting too. Some how – someone either received her mail or saw her mail with the name “Marion N. Lincoln” on the envelop – and introduced herself to “Marion”. From then on she was “Marion” to her friends in the apartment building.

The second story came about this way. There were already two “Nells” in the coffee group so they chose mom’s first name so as to not confuse her with the other two “Nells”. One of her friends told me that story on the elevator one day as well. But she was French Canadian and called Mom – “Maryanne”.

Two years ago she moved to Peterborough. I introduced her as my mother and her name was “Nell”. The person shaking her hand asked for the name again – Mom responded, “My name is Marion.” They shook on it and it was done… My Mom was Marion.

I have had two years to remember that name – but she is still Nell to me. My dad never ever called her Marion. Sheesh – what confusion when your 65 years old.

Well it gets better!

As we ploughed through the files and papers she has, I found treasure that was 88 years old. There on the very soft and very old paper was the Birth Registration done by my Grandpa Charlie Kirkpatrick – the official document from the Government of Saskatchewan. Her name is/was “Marian Nellie Kirkpatrick”!!!!

I have never known my Mother was “Marian Nellie”!

Is she really my mother? Is she some a foreign spy that crept into the sleepy Canadian countryside so long ago and became “Mom”, “Nell”, “Nellie”, “my Mother”, or “Marion” – who the dickens is she?

When the Government People see the change of names what will happen? They will not be able to find Marian Nellie Kirkpatrick! She has not existed for many years. In fact the one that actually owns that name has gone through a name change after name change.

On Miami CSI or NY CSI – they view aliases as suspicious and will arrest that suspicious person. What will I do when I have to drive each day to Lindsay’s Super jail where they hold the Terrorist types – just to visit my mom? Hokey Mokey – what does a son do?

Now my mom worries about enough things… I don’t think I will explain why this may look funny to a Border Policeman. She will not likely cross the Border to the USA any too soon – as Health Insurance/Costs are nutso in any state.

Now today I need to get her passport photo done… and then submit the completed forms.

If all goes well we will have it in hand before long – that amazing passport for Marion N. Lincoln – and no one will ever know!

I did ask my mom why it was “Marian”. Her answer was, “My dad made a mistake spelling it.” That didn’t make sense to me. The poor guy would return home and find out from a slightly frazzled wife with a new baby that he spelled it wrong on the Official Document… and would hear about it forever!

Too funny… too cotton picking funny!

Now who am I? Yikes what a thought….

~ Murray Lincoln ~
www.murraylincoln.com