Here Comes Treble: What's In A Name?
Whatever else you do, don't call Isabel Bradley "Izzy''.
And do be careful when using names. If you accidentally use the wrong name you could be taking the first step down the slippery slope which leads to divorce.
Whatever your name you are sure to enjoy this column by Isabel. To read more of her words please click on http://www.openwriting.com/archives/here_comes_treble/
William Shakespeare, speaking as Romeo in Romeo and Juliet, declared that, “A rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet…”
I wonder what the rose would have to say.
In spite of Will’s wise words, people tend to take their names very seriously. After all, their name is the key to their identity, their sense of self. Misspellings, mispronunciations, or missing names completely, are all considered to be – well – insults to the person concerned.
Surely, though, insistence on precision can be taken to extremes; intention, rather than the spoken word, is the key to one’s reactions. For instance, my name is Isabel, which most people use. I’ve reacted happily to ‘Bel, occasionally, I’ll accept Isabelle, Isobel, Eliza-bel, Isabellion, all, of course, if spoken with affection or approval. But don’t, ever, call me Izzy, no matter how much affection you feel… We all have our limits.
When I worked as a school secretary, there was an influx of students from Taiwan, all with names none of us English-speakers could get our tongues ‘round. One family solved the problem for us: pointing to his son, the man said, “You’re George!” and to his daughter, “You’re Annie!” and George and Annie they remained. They were excellent students, learning English in record-time and soon leading the marks tables in their grades. These Chinese ‘roses’ did very well under other names!
Not everyone remembers names easily. In a social gathering, where one meets many new people, one invariably finds oneself floundering just minutes after introductions are made. Even if one has met one’s friend’s friends several times over a number of months or years, connecting the correct face to the relevant name is definitely tricky. “Hallo,” one finds oneself stuttering, “ummm… er … how good to see you again, and how are little – uh … and …?” With any luck, the person one is speaking to has similar difficulties, and one can grin and re-introduce oneself.
Another peculiarity of names and nicknames is that one forms habits around them. For instance, during the early days of my first marriage, the name of an ex-boyfriend was close enough to the nickname I used for my husband, for me to confuse them. Once was enough, it was the beginning of the slippery slope to divorce!
After many years of marriage to my second husband, we were eventually divorced and I married Leon. A few days after our wedding, he visited me at the office, where I had to introduce him to my colleagues. Over twenty years, my mind had been conditioned to use my ex-husband’s name in conjunction with the word ‘husband’, and out it popped without any invitation on my part, to be corrected hastily and with great
embarrassment. Leon, being understanding, adult and mature, didn’t bat an eyelid. He, of course, suffered from a similar syndrome and several times either referred to me or introduced me using his ex-wife’s name. Over the years, these habits have, thankfully, been replaced with current names and affiliations.
Then there was the amusing case of Leon’s new, bright yellow, car. No-one will believe him when he tells them he did not buy it because the model is a – yes – Léon. It was manufactured by the Spanish Volkswagen company, SEAT, pronounced ‘see-at’.
More comical yet was my cousin’s reaction. She lives in Canada and visited us in South Africa recently. I’d written to her, telling her that Leon was now the proud owner of a SEAT Léon. I did not explain the pronunciation to her. When I met her in my white Chev Aveo, she looked into the car where she was about to sit, and said, “Is this a seat?”
For a moment I wondered if she’d gone dippy – what else would one sit on other than a … “OH!” I exclaimed, “No, this is the Aveo, the SEAT is at home, it’s bright yellow, you’ll definitely recognise it when you see it!”
My most recent experiences with name confusion came in the middle of a really bad year, when stress and emotional upset had my brains rather scrambled. Of course, this is no excuse for getting names confused, but that’s what I did. My cellist friend, Peta-Ann and I were about to start working with a new pianist, Susan van der Wat. I sent a text message to Peta-Ann, reminding her we were rehearsing next day with Susan Swart. “Where did THAT come from?” I later asked myself… I sent an e-mail to Rita who runs the concert series where we would be performing early in the New Year, with the name Susan Swart as our accompanist.
Peta-Ann phoned in confusion. “Who’s Susan Swart?” she asked.
“Did I write Swart? I mean Van der Wat, of course. Sorry!”
When I confessed my inexplicable confusion to Susan, she laughed, much to my relief. “I thought you were going to say you’d chosen different music, I’ve been practising what you gave me so hard…” she replied. “Don’t worry: I’ve spent the whole morning telling myself I’m working with ISABEL Bradley who plays the flute and not ELIZABETH Bradley who makes superb tapestries.”
“No problem,” I said, laughing, then added, “I also answer to ‘hey, you!’”
Seemingly there was a hearing problem in the room. “Hayley,” both girls said at once, “Why Hayley?”
“Sorry, I speak funny sometimes,” I replied. “I actually said, ‘Hey – you!’” this time, they got the joke.
I sent an e-mail to Rita, correcting the surname error. She changed her advert for our concert to read, “Susan van der Walt” on the programme, adding an unnecessary ‘L’. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that this time, the mistake was hers.
Another pianist I worked with was an immigrant to South Africa with a Georgian surname. When she arrived in South Africa, she had to ‘translate’ her surname from the Cyrillic alphabet to the English, and found it difficult to create the Georgian phonetics. Over about ten years, her name has dropped some letters and added many others, all in an effort to help announcers and audiences pronounce her name the way she wants. It has now settled to something that still ties English-speakers’ tongues in knots…try, Tsikhelashvili!
After all, what is in a name? One can take perfectly natural mistakes too personally, too much to heart, let a slip of the tongue ruin a marriage or lead to war and chaos.
Preferably, such a minor error can result in a shared laugh and everyone telling their own hilarious experiences.
Until next time… ‘here comes Treble!’
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By Isabel Bradley
