Tumberg

My facebook status says 178 days. 178 days until I will have the name of Manda Irene Tumberg. I remember when I was little, scavaging through old photos of Tosten and Mali and hearing stories about the great Norwegian family of the Hegseths, I decided I was going to keep my maiden name if I ever got married.

To this day, there is an undescribable sorrow about losing that connection with my Norweigan name. Like I am forsaking my ancestors, the stories I learned and kept as treasures hidden in my childhood memories.

I am proud of my name. I was proud to say my grandfather was Theo Hegseth. I was proud to say that my father was Ted Hegseth. I was proud to say my uncle was David, my grandmother was Eleanor, my aunt was Kathy, and that I was cut from the same fabric as these fascinating individuals.

But now my name changes to a Finnish connection. I will be attached to stories and names I know nothing about. A culture that is similar, but so different than what I am used to. Plastered to a town of barely 1000, half of which are all related.

Very early in our "thinking about marriage conversation," I told him I was going to keep my name. He didn't like that.

So I have 178 days left of being identified as a Hegseth. Or at least directly indentified without explaining who I married. And maybe that is just another adjustment, another change that is coming that I am just beginning to grasp.