Commentary: Last week, my column for the Deming Headlight twice referred to Deming city councilor Roxana Rincon as "Roxanne." The misprint seems to have occurred because my word processor prefers "Roxanne," perhaps out of an inordinate fondness for the old pop song by The Police or the charming 1987 movie starring Steve Martin. In some haste, I did not spot the error before filing my column last week. Desert Sage blew it.
While factual errors are always embarrassing, personal names especially are a category I try to get right. After all, look at my name. When you have a name like mine, you are consigned to a lifetime of spelling your name, modeling the correct pronunciation, and repeated conversations about the origins of your name; and for all that effort, people still get it wrong.
The apostrophe alone causes headaches in an age where everything goes through computers. Some computers accept the apostrophe as just another letter in my name, some institutions ignore it entirely, and some computers erase the apostrophe and add a space, bestowing a second middle initial. Hours, I tell you, hours of my life have been spent on the phone or in line while anguished representatives try to find me in their computers. I actually have to block out extra time for common customer service situations and have a snack handy.
Stepping inside the Holy Family parish hall last Tuesday to cast my ballot in the municipal election, finding the hall empty except for some poll workers keeping each other awake on another day of dismal voter turnout in Deming, I spent the customary several minutes waiting while they tried to find me in their computer, researching my name with and without an apostrophe. They kept apologizing though I assured them this was routine for me. I then filled a single oval on my ballot, for the municipal judge contest. (Roxana Rincon - not "Roxanne" -was running unopposed for her seat on the city council, and I do not vote in uncontested elections.) It was near the end of the day and my ballot was number 118.
For all the inconvenience, I have never wished to change my surname or even drop the apostrophe. Somehow my great grandparents made it through Ellis Island without having their Italian surname anglicized (or, shall we say, "whitened"). It used to be a rite of passage for immigrants - from Europe, Asia, or the Americas - to convert their name to something more, well, waspy. That's why we play Steinway pianos instead of Steinwegs. People with non-white and non-Christian sounding names would often adopt more neutral stage names. Virginia McMath could not have dreamed of dancing on the silver screen with Fred Austerlitz, but Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire were Hollywood icons.
In our century, we have more celebrities maintaining names like Kardashian or Lopez, and a president with an Arabic name and African surname, honoring our various ancestors and legacies. Even now, there is still pressure to "whiten" names. In 2005, I officiated a wedding for a couple with a groom who was from Nigeria and had a very long first name. He told me to call him "Ike," as most Americans did, but for this occasion I insisted on learning how to pronounce his name in full. It took only three minutes to get accustomed to his name - "ee-hanye-CHOO-koo." For him and his mother (present in beautiful traditional garb) it made a significant difference at the ceremony.
So yes, it's worth getting names right. I regret the error.
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Algernon D'Ammassa writes the "Desert Sage" column for the Deming Headlight and Sun News papers. You can write to him atDesertSageMail@gmail.com.