patti. peppermint patty. big red. carrot top. ramsey. pippi. pathi. patti. spit. patricia. patti.

I'm participating in a 31-day blogging challenge called reverb10, responding to writing prompts that are designed to elicit reflections on 2010, and hopes for 2011. You can find out more about it here. I am challenging myself to respond to each prompt in 15 minutes or less.

Today's challenge: New name: Let’s meet again, for the first time. If you could introduce yourself to strangers by another name for just one day, what would it be and why?

patti. peppermint patty. big red. carrot top. ramsey. pippi. pathi. patti. patricia. patti.

My name is Donna Patricia. I was to be called Donna, I think. But my cousin taught my 2-year-old brother to say "Patti" before I came home from the hospital, and so there it was. Patti. Patti with an "i." My mother was adamant about that. It's Patti with an "i."

Bright thick long red hair and wild freckles brought many nicknames: Big Red. Carrot Top. Freckle Face. Thick glasses brought more: Four Eyes.

My mother's maiden name was "Ramsey." I longed for an exotic first name like that.

I adored Pippi Longstocking because she was strong and willful and red-headed and freckled. I wanted to be called Pippi.

I lived in Sri Lanka while in high school and came back pretending my name was Pathi.

I grew up to be Patti if called by name and always, always, always Patricia in print. If I was speaking at a conference, I demanded to be in the program as "Patricia." If I published an article, it was by "Patricia Digh." Always. No exceptions. It was my professional me.

I always joke with my husband when we talk about nicknames that I want to be called Spit. Emma is Buddy, Peanut, and Sissy, depending who in our family is talking to her. I claim "Spit." It makes me laugh every time.

When Life is a Verb was going to press, my editor called to ask how I wanted my name to appear on the cover: Patricia or Patti.

A lifetime of ambivalence about the name "Patti" ended in that moment. This was a book in my real voice, not my professional voice.

"Patti," I said. "My name is Patti Digh."