Living Out Loud Volume 7: By Any Other Name

My name is Karal. It rhymes with Meryl. It rhymes with Jeryl. Heck, it even rhymes with barrel.

When I feel the need to make things simple or if I know it’s going to be butchered when screamed over a loud speaker, I spell it Carol. It’s only 5 letters and I personally don’t see what’s difficult about it. Only five letters shouldn’t be hard to screw up. But it’s a proven fact that if there’s a way to mispronounce it, somebody’s gonna go there.

If personality, attitude, and all around life destiny are determined by the name we’re given at birth, life as I know it – or would have known it – was radically altered by a last minute decision and the stroke of a pen. I was supposed to be Kara, but my mom decided that seemed too blunt and “softened it” by adding the L at the last split second.

I know of only 3 other Karal’s. One I met while working in the bath department of a shop in Hopkinsville, Kentucky, (where? . . . exactly.) One was was a losing contestant on Jeopardy, and the other is writer and well-know specialist in American culture Karal Ann Marling. She’s good company.

I never even gave thought to it’s uniqueness until I was 8 and the choir director at my stepdad’s new church greeted me with an overly enthusiastic smile and a “. . .  you must be Corral.”  With images of penned horses swirling through my mind, I surely didn’t know about  WTF back then, but I’m confident the look I gave her conveyed that message loud and clear.

Since then I’ve answered to Carl, Karen, Karla, Kuh-Rall. I answer to the pause and questioning look, and yes, I even answer to Corral. During a rebellious stage, if it wasn’t pronounced right, I wouldn’t answer at all. I didn’t think so, but some part of me, obviously, identified with Karal, and defended her, too.  Terms of endearment are Kurl, started years ago and continued still by my best high school friend LeeLee; K.K., my childhood name (it goes with a song, “little K.K., woo-woo of the world” . . .) and K-RAL, bestowed by a boss everyone else considered a crotchety old man, but who had a fondness for me, and continued by my friend, Jen.

I have a deep emotional bond with my last name, but when I say the two together, it tends to sounds like a growling dog, or a person talking with a mouthful of mashed potatoes. So I place a pause between my first and last name, letting it lilt and flow smoothly: karal . . . gregory.

When I was 5, I wanted to be Sally — but I think I wanted to be Charlie Brown’s little sister more than I wanted to actually take her name. I like my name. I like it precisely because of the way it’s spelled. I like it because it’s different, unique, almost exotic in a Russian spy sort of way. It’s feminine, it’s creative. And it’s not typecast. You won’t buy an off the rack key chain, and you won’t find it in any baby name lists.  At least not human babies.  I did find it on a list for dog’s names once.

Karal doesn’t show up easily in those history of names websites either, but I did find an indirect link. Karal supposedly derives from the German name Karel, and means “free man.” That, however, is considered a man’s name. On the other hand, Kara, a variant of the Latin name Cara, means “beloved” or “friend.”

The name Carol is also listed as meaning “free man” depending on where you look.  But I don’t identify with Carol or Carole as being my name, even though other people have often labeled me as part of a duo when there was a(nother) Carol(e) in the office. I was always happy to be “little Karal”, though honestly, “big Carole” was only just a little taller. I have friends who are Carol and Carole, but I do not feel that Carol is me (and Carol in San Diego actually identifies best with her nickname, Stella).

Whoever she is, I identify with Karal.  Searching, sensitive, life is passion, to hell with convention “free man” Karal. But ironically, I identify with Kara too. My inclination is to express too bluntly my thoughts and emotions, but I’ve learned to move to a softer place before I speak.

LeeLee told me recently that she showed a picture of us to her sister-in-law. Joy wrote back to her an emotional and honest message:

What I see in Karal’s eyes is truly a pure love that doesn’t
judge, and a faithfulness to those she loves that is immovable.

God I love that. Yeah, Kara’s in there too.