Guest blogger GRETA GOSS went through life as Peggy, a name she hated.  And then one day she ran out of business cards.  This blog originally appeared on More magazine’s site.

I’d always hated my name.  When I was fourteen, I found a book in the library called “The History of Names.”  I looked up my given name, Margaret, and was stunned by its derivations.  Pages and pages of them, well over 100 versions, often three variations of it for a single country including nicknames like the one I got stuck with…Peggy.

I ran my finger down the endless list until one of them, Greta, stopped me cold.  It was a perfect switch:  it’s used in England, Sweden, and Germany (a nod to Dad); it was a natural nickname for Margaret (especially if spelled Margret); it ended in “a,” making it feel exotic; with my last name, Goss, it was alliteration and, as for personal stationery, this was a name with graphic sex appeal!

Cradling the book in my hands, leaning back in contentment, my attention strayed to the cover of the book at the top of that day’s heap:  a smoldering photograph of Greta Garbo.  That did it.  I’d found the right answer to my name game.  I’d tapped utopia.

Walking home, I thought about how I was going to tell my mother.  We’re talking a woman who went wild over every Margaret or Peggy she’d ever met.  We’re talking a woman with roots in Massachusetts, a state where they sing “Peg ‘O My Heart” by their first birthday.  We’re talking a woman who graduated from college with a class composed entirely of Margarets nicknamed Peggy.  This meant I grew up surrounded by a legion of women I called “Aunt Peggy” – which didn’t even include numerous blood relations named Margaret (also called Peggy).  Not a Megan, Marge, Maggie or Margo in the bunch.  The walk home was uphill.  A steep one.  I grew less confident with every step.

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Family names was the subject of a recent nameberry poll, in which you voted overwhelmingly –70%–in favor of using family names for your baby.  Where to look for great family names? In your own family records, of course, as well as in nameberry for ideas of historic names that sound appropriate for modern life. Another great idea:  you can hunt for original family names through genealogy sources — and build a family tree for your baby in the process.

The largest number of people who took our poll–46%–were comfortable with taking lots of liberties with Grandpa Wilbur or Grandma Enid’s name to make them more  modern-baby friendly.  We’re happy to help.  The following are some possible updates  for those fusty, musty family names. 

Agnes –>  ANAIS

Alvin –> ALDO

April –>  MAY

Arnold –>  ARNO

Bertha –> EARTHA

Beverly –> EVERLY

Blossom –> POPPY

Brian –>  ORION

Bruce –> SPRUCE

Diane –> DIANTHA

Donald –>  DONALL

Douglas –> DOUGAL

Edgar –> EDMUND

Edna –> EDEN

Elmer  –> ELM

Enid –> ENYA

Estelle –> ESTELLA

Ethel –> ESME           

Gertrude –> TRUE

Hubert –> HUGH

Irma –> ISLA

Irving –>  VING

Julius –> JUDE

Julie –>  JULIET

Lester –> DEXTER

Lois –>  LOLA

Lori –> STORY

Luther –> LUCA

Malva –>  MALIA

Marion –> MARIN

Mildred –> MILLIE

Milton –>  MILO

Morris –>  MORRISON

Myra –>  MYA

Norman –>  NORTH

Phyllis–> FELICITY

Roland –>  ROMAN

Ronald –>  RONAN

Shirley –> SHILOH

Teresa–> TESSA

Thelma –> THEA

Viola –> VIOLET

Weston –>  EASTON

Wilbur –>  WILLEM

Wilma –>  WILLA

How have YOU modernized a family name for your child?  Tell us here!

Before I was born, my mother had  two names picked out for me–I was going to be either Lydia or Laurel.  She liked them because they were slightly unusual and, being an artist herself, saw them as having a creative feel;  she was also following the Jewish tradition of using the first initial of a deceased relative.  In this case, it was my father’s mother, who had recently died, and whose first and middle initials were R and L.

But once I actually made my appearance, Lydia and Laurel were never heard of again.  Whatever transpired in the hospital I’ll never know–something to do with pressure by my Dad’s sisters for names closer to their mother’s–but in any case, I arrived home with a birth certificate reading Ruth Leila.  To confuse matters further, I was never ever called Ruth.  Instead I was known to one and all by my Jewish name, Laila.  So little Laila became who I was–that is until the fateful day when I started kindergarten and my teacher, looking at my records, naturally called me Ruth.  Ruth?  Who is Ruth?  In one fell swoop, my identity was shattered.  (So don’t anyone ever ask me if you should change your child’s name in midstream–you can imagine my answer.)

I returned home from school completely distraught, no longer sure quite who I was.  My sympathetic mother said ‘OK, dear, if it would make you feel better, how about starting from scratch and picking a totally new name for yourself?’  Not having a name book handy, she proceeded to make lists of names starting with those two letters (again Lydia and Laurel went missing)–Leah, Leslie, Louise, Rachel, Roxanne, etc.  I picked Linda, which at the time sounded appealingly bright and shiny to me.  But choosing a new name at the age of five doesn’t mean you necessarily instantly internalize it and make your own–which is something I never did.  But the experience did trigger my lifelong fascination with names.

Through the years I’ve accumulated many nicknames–perhaps because friends also sensed that I wasn’t an authentic Linda.  My family often called me Lin, while others came up with Linnie, Lindy, Linneth, Linden, Linsy, and even–in the internet era–my email tag Lindro.  Lately, though, with the growing popularity of so many pretty double-L names, like Lola and Lila and Lilo and Lily and Leyla, I’ve started to really miss Laila.  As a matter of fact, a new friend, hearing my name saga, has started to call me that.  And you know what?  It really feels like me.

I’d love to hear anyone else’s story about a name change that didn’t take, or of  not  feeling comfortable with your own name for some other reason.