The other day I went to the social security office to begin the process of changing my name. It entails quite a bit, especially when you get to the part where you have to go to the bank, human error being the worse. It’s been almost a year since my name was legally changed but I couldn’t officially change it. I remember filling out the marriage license form with Z. I wasn’t able to click on the submit button for days. I couldn’t decide whether or not I wanted to change my name. Everyone thought I should, especially my mother and Z but I couldn’t do it quite yet. So I sat on the application and without meaning to do so, we ended up getting legally married April 20th.

In the end I changed my last name but it doesn’t take effect until you make all the necessary changes.

1. Get a new social security card with your new name
2. Take that new card to the DMV along with your marriage license and get a new ID
3. Go to your banking institution and change your name on your account (s)
4. Call all your credit card companies, insurance, etc., and hope they will make the changes without asking for too much (copies of forms…)
5. OPTIONAL but very important let your voting center know about the change, update passport  (will cost you the same price as if you were renewing)…and you get the point. 

So here I am beginning the process (I’m on step one, waiting for my new card in the mail) after much affliction. I’ve always loved my last name. It was my fathers gift to me, given to him by his French rooted father who settled in Guatemala. I never had a close relationship with my grandfather but I did with my father. My father had a big role in making me the savvy businesswoman I became and teaching me the importance of being a parent to a child as apposed to a friend. My father was a black belt and although he didn’t send me to karate school he gave me and my sisters self defense lessons and he never let us “win”. If you didn’t try with all your little girl might, you would end up on the floor, and if you were me, you would end up in tears knowing that you weren’t able to beat your opponent.

My father taught me to love as passionately as I could, to look for the good in people but always be cautious, to look people in the eye when speaking, to give a good hand shake and to speak clearly when presenting to others but most importantly, to be a good listener. Everything, he said, will come from listening, learning, growth, opportunity and personal development and thus far, my father has been right. When I think of Dubon, I think of my father and all the lessons he taught me while I thought he was just trying to drive me insane. I think of my siblings, being little and going on scavenger hunts in our huge back yard. I think of the nights we spent camping in Lake Perris telling stories we knew would give us nightmares. I think of the summer nights we all spent in the pool. I think of all the pets my father allowed us to own so much so it felt like a zoo that drove my mother crazy. I think of all the instruments and extracurricular activities my father encouraged us to learn and never let us quit.

Dubon is deep rooted within me but I’m ready to add to the great base my parents molded and can only hope to do the same with Natey.