What's in a Name? (2)

I decided to write about my name, and realised that I wasn't sure what name is really mine. My surname now is not the one I was born with, though I took it on some thirty-three years ago. I suppose it's not my legal name now that I am divorced - though all my documents carry it. 

I began to think about the way that women lose the use of their family names when they marry, because of course the family name in Britain is generally taken as the male line's name. I researched the meanings of all the names I knew in my family's history and found I knew more about my mother's family names, because she talked about them, than my father's family name, which was taken for granted. My maiden name was Watkinson, and I began by finding out the history of that name, then went on to find out about my mother's family names. Here is the poem.

Who Am I?

I was born of Walter’s kinsman’s son
Whose folks were raised on Ilkley Moor
but by the time my Dad met Mum 
he wasn’t northern any more.

My mother was quite haughty -
her name was Kath McCarthy.
Now I see she was related to 
an ancient Irish king.

My grandpa, Joe McCarthy,
was a cobbler. You would not have
guessed his kingly status – rather
Grandma thought she’d wed beneath her.

As a Nash she counted shamans
among her ancient forbears and
her mother was a Musgrave, 
a rich land-owner from Cumbria

who we understood had run off
with a no-good handsome gipsy,
so Mum told the family myth to us 
when she was slightly tipsy.

So who am I? a Musgrave?
a McCarthy or a Nash?
a descendant of young Walter?
No, I’m Jan.

I’m a woman with a right 
to be called anything I like,
that’s who I am.