[Jane–see image accompanying this story; I think it would go well in the print version too]
By Gates (Pam) Johnson
I have been asked this question about eight million times in the last, I’m going to guess, three decades. Not sure why it is such an interesting topic. Is “Gates” that odd a name that people wonder from whence it came? Well, it’s time to put this hot topic to bed.
Lots of acquaintances seem to think the name came from back in the day when I was very involved with the horse community. Both of my kids had horses and were members of 4-H and Pony Club. I spent innumerable hours leaning on fences watching them go round and round. Walk, trot, canter, reverse, walk, trot, canter, halt, back up. They rode western and English, did equitation, pleasure, stadium jumping and cross county.
Horse shows, county and state fairs. Two kids, lots of horses added up to many hours leaning on those fences. Out of boredom, I jumped in to help where I could. Many times, helping involved opening and closing gates, at home, Paradise Ridge or various horse shows. Putting two and two together, people assumed the name Gates came from those activities. Au contraire.
Here is the real story of how I became Gates:
It started way back when I was a little kid. Never a girly-girl; always a tom-boy. I hated the name Pam. It just never seemed to fit. It made me think of frilly dresses and black patent leather shoes. If you know me at all, you know that’s not me. Jeans and sweatshirts all the way. I wanted a nickname, but again, never seemed to find one that fit.
Kids at school made fun of me. “Pam the ham from Alabam.” Teachers called me Pam-ella. One of my dad’s friends called me Freck because of my freckles. I hated it! But Pam was the name I was saddled with, so I lived with it.
Fast-forward to the 90s. I was going through big life changes. My marriage had ended in divorce, and not pleasantly. I was left with very minimal family and close friend support. Had changed jobs, from working at Burton Elementary to McMurray Intermediate. Stress. Depression. Financial uncertainty. Lost a bunch of weight. Life was not fun.
One night, I was sitting in my front room watching Star Trek, The Next Generation. As the credits rolled, I noticed the name Gates McFadden. Hmmmm. That name struck me. I thought, maybe this is the time I shed the old Pam persona and move on to the new Gates era. So I did.
Don’t recall exactly how I transitioned to the new name. It may have started when I came back to work after a summer break. I just started calling myself Gates. It fit. I signed unofficial documents as Gates. I was listed in the school directory as Gates. Pretty soon, people began to call me that. It felt pretty good. Made me feel like a snake that shed its old skin, in a good way.
As time progressed, fewer and fewer people called me Pam. Often, new people thought Gates was my maiden name, so they called me Pam Gates. They wondered if I was related to Bill Gates. Nope. Just plain, old Gates Johnson.
Fast forward once again. Most everyone calls me Gates now. The only people who call me Pam are my sisters and those who have known me for several decades. At this point in life, it doesn’t much matter what people call me. But when I look in the mirror I see Gates, not Pam.
