The Nancys

 

For years I've been fascinated by the waves of popular names for girls (boys, not so much, and I don't know why). When I was in elementary school, in our grade there were three Nancys, four Susans, and countless Carols. 

My daughter was born near the tail end of the Jennifers, but there were still a lot of them. They'd begun in 1970 after a sappy movie called "Love Story."  When Sherry went to her prom, there were three couples that went together and the other two were identified by the color of their dresses: The black Jen and the blue Jen. Some of the Jennifers, I suppose, are grandmothers now.

Currently (I checked), the girls are being named Olivia and Emma and Charlotte. And, of course, Addison and Madison. Eleanor and Elizabeth reached their peaks (again) a couple of years ago.

Last week I had a medical appointment at a very large practice. I signed in on an iPad and took my seat while the ladies at the counter called out, "Bill!" "John!" and "Pat!" I'd begun to feel forgotten when "Nancy!" rang out. As I made my way to the counter, I could see a white-haired, wrinkly lady approaching from the other side of the waiting area. "Nancy?" said the desk gal and the other woman firmly said, "Yes." And it turned out she was the Nancy they sought. (My turn did come moments later, no worries.) I noticed how old she appeared and that gave me pause.

I still know a lot of Nancys and Susans and Carols and the occasional Carole. I even knew a Nancie. And Kathys; I know a whole lot of them, too. 

Moms don't name their girls Nancy any more. They haven't for a long time. The name is getting to be almost obsolete. Like Beulah and Henrietta. 

But there are still plenty of us and if you look behind our walkers and speak loudly enough for us to hear, you'll find us.