hola! me llamo: jennifer

When it comes to nametags there are probably three schools of people. People who hate the nametag. People who are apathetic towards the nametag. And, the smallest group, people who love the nametag. I am in the third group. My maxim when it comes to nametags: Nametags are a usual and worthwhile tool. I am one of those visual/tactile learners. If I can, when I meet someone, see their name right there near their face there is probably a 70% chance I am going to remember that person’s name. The next time I see them my mind will go to a picture of that person’s name written on that little white tag.

Nametag lovers usually begat nametag lovers, so it will come as no surprise that my mother is a fan of the nametag. She had the fantastic idea of bringing a few packs of nametags to the funeral home for our family to wear during visitation hours. Most of the family cheerfully partook in their wearing. Even if some respect payers (did I just make-up a new phrase?) didn’t read them, we were easily identified as family members because of the nametags (just like employees of Target or Blockbuster in their red shirts or blue polos and khakis!). Mine said: Jennifer, Granddaughter (daughter of John Carroll). Sure, I still had to clarify that I was not Harold’s daughter a few times. But I am so used to that.

Today I came across this photo and promptly forwarded it to my parents with the subject: Mom, I found a new tattoo for you.

She replied: Either you need to do this on your blog or I need to start blogging.

Only thing is, at first I thought she meant I need this tattoo.