Robin D’Ann
Meissner Johnson. That is my name now,
but it hasn’t always been that way. My
mom chose my name – Robin after a student she taught who could play the piano
and sing like an angel, D’Ann as a combination of her middle name and my great
grandmother’s. She said she knew it was
the right name for me as soon as they laid me in her arms. I didn’t always agree, mainly because the boy
who lived across the street shared the name with me, as well as Batman’s
sidekick.
Grandma, from the
moment I was born, called me her little “Robinbird”. She said that seeing my rosy cheeks scrunched
on my tiny face and hearing the beautiful sound of her first granddaughter’s
cry reminded her of the robin birds that would greet her outside her window in
early spring. She drove all over town
that Tuesday night trying to find the LP with “Rockin’ Robin” on it, so I would
hear my name as she sang me to sleep.
My daddy always
called me “Dolly”, after the country and western singer Dolly Parton. I don’t think he liked my real name much
because my mom picked it out. That’s kind of how their relationship
worked. It might have been because I
loved to sing. Every night before bed, I
would put Dolly’s record album on, stand in front of the fireplace holding my
hairbrush microphone, and belt out “ 9 to 5 “. To make the picture complete,
my mom would let me try on one of her blonde bouffant wigs, stuff a few socks
in my shirt, and let the living room transform into my stage.
Around age 7, my
passion (and role model) changed, but my love for dress up and drama didn’t. A
new heroine had replaced Dolly – Wonder Woman.
With her red, white, and blue body suit, wrist bands of steel, and magic
lasso, I thought she ruled the world.
Watching Wonder Woman on television, so expertly played by Lynda Carter,
now became my favorite nighttime activity.
I wore Wonder Woman Underoos to bed as many nights as I could get away
with. (I think Mom bought me 2 or 3 pairs so I wouldn’t know the difference.) I counted down the days until October when
Mom would take me to Fleming’s Corner Drug and purchase the “real life” Wonder
Woman costume. Even though Lynda Carter
had brown hair, I chose the one with blonde so that when I went out trick or
treating everyone would really think I had turned into this mighty superhero. I
swore I would never take off the sacred cape and red leather boots.
But I did. As I entered my teenage years, the costumes
stayed hung in the back of my closet and the dress up days hidden in the far
corners of my mind.
At 32, I sometimes
wonder who I really am – daughter, sister, wife, mother, student, teacher, or friend. Robin just doesn’t seem to cover it all. On many days, I still feel a little like
Dolly, performing up on the stage that is my classroom with the students as my
captive audience. Other days, speeding
from one crisis to another, I slip on my Wonder Woman costume again. Protecting my loved ones, wrapping the lasso
of truth around those I consider the “bad guys”, and making sure that justice
is served and all is right in the world.
During quiet
family times, my grandma still refers to me as her little “Robinbird”. I don’t get to see her as much as I would
like; I let life get too busy for what is most important. So we talk on the phone at least once a week,
and when I visit she always wants to hear me sing and play the piano for her
and her friends. I do, knowing that I
bring that feeling of renewal and rebirth that she has always associated with
the first robin of spring.
At home each
night, I am “Mommy”, the sweetest name I have ever been given. So who am I?
I am all of these personalities wrapped into one. Each persona appears when I need her the
most.
Gavin McGraw sings
these words, “I don’t wanna be anything other than what I’ve been trying to be
lately.” Lately, I’m known as Robin –
daughter, sister, wife, mother, student, teacher, and friend. That’s who I am and all that I want to be.