Naming the names
Friday, November 14th, 2008 01:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
I've been doing a lot of database entry for the day-job these last few weeks, which is cool, in that it gives me a chance at some ...interesting... names. A couple of the names today reminded me of a story. No point to it, really, just a memory...
'Way, 'way back in time, and considerably down-coast, I worked as a secretary in the Dean's office at the School of Social Work at the University of Maryland's graduate schools. I was the second secretary in the office, working with a woman named Nancy, and there had been others before me.
One day, Nancy announced excitedly that -- call her Anna Chang -- who had worked at my desk previous to my arrival was coming for a visit. She was very excited and went on at some length about how very much she loved Anna; how smart and sweet she was, how I was going to love her, too, and how nobody would ever know that she wasn't a native speaker, her English was so good.
I did something stupid, then; I asked what Anna's name was.
She stared at me in consternation. "Anna Chang. I told you."
"Yes, but I meant her Chinese name," said I, stupid to the death.
More consternation. "Well, it must be Anna; we told each other everything, so of course she told me her real name."
"Oh," I said, too late. But I could tell Nancy was still distressed.
Sure enough, next day, when Anna came in, and after they had exclaimed over each other and I had been introduced, Nancy said to Anna, "Sharon asked me what your real name is, but it's Anna, isn't it?"
Anna looked at me, perhaps accusingly. "It's the name I use here," she said. "My real name -- it's not easy for Americans to say."
Nancy teared up. "But -- why didn't you tell me your name?"
"It would be hard for you and I would not have been a good friend, to distress you. Everyone here calls me Anna; it's a name I chose," she said reasonably, then, with a flash of insight, "It's not that I was hiding from you, Nancy."
"I want to learn!" Nancy said, fierce now. "Tell me your name, and I'll learn to say it."
Of course it was impossible, a tangle of syllables my ear couldn't begin to sort out, nor Nancy's. She tried, very earnestly, and got tearier with each failure.
After a while, Anna suggested that they go to lunch and talk over old times. She didn't include me in the invitation, and I didn't blame her.
Nancy never talked to me about Anna again, and I still kinda feel like a heel for having asked that question...
'Way, 'way back in time, and considerably down-coast, I worked as a secretary in the Dean's office at the School of Social Work at the University of Maryland's graduate schools. I was the second secretary in the office, working with a woman named Nancy, and there had been others before me.
One day, Nancy announced excitedly that -- call her Anna Chang -- who had worked at my desk previous to my arrival was coming for a visit. She was very excited and went on at some length about how very much she loved Anna; how smart and sweet she was, how I was going to love her, too, and how nobody would ever know that she wasn't a native speaker, her English was so good.
I did something stupid, then; I asked what Anna's name was.
She stared at me in consternation. "Anna Chang. I told you."
"Yes, but I meant her Chinese name," said I, stupid to the death.
More consternation. "Well, it must be Anna; we told each other everything, so of course she told me her real name."
"Oh," I said, too late. But I could tell Nancy was still distressed.
Sure enough, next day, when Anna came in, and after they had exclaimed over each other and I had been introduced, Nancy said to Anna, "Sharon asked me what your real name is, but it's Anna, isn't it?"
Anna looked at me, perhaps accusingly. "It's the name I use here," she said. "My real name -- it's not easy for Americans to say."
Nancy teared up. "But -- why didn't you tell me your name?"
"It would be hard for you and I would not have been a good friend, to distress you. Everyone here calls me Anna; it's a name I chose," she said reasonably, then, with a flash of insight, "It's not that I was hiding from you, Nancy."
"I want to learn!" Nancy said, fierce now. "Tell me your name, and I'll learn to say it."
Of course it was impossible, a tangle of syllables my ear couldn't begin to sort out, nor Nancy's. She tried, very earnestly, and got tearier with each failure.
After a while, Anna suggested that they go to lunch and talk over old times. She didn't include me in the invitation, and I didn't blame her.
Nancy never talked to me about Anna again, and I still kinda feel like a heel for having asked that question...
no subject
Date: 2008-11-14 07:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-14 10:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-15 12:27 am (UTC)Of course, I have the reverse problem here in Japan. My family name is far too close to a word which means fool, which causes some people concern although it also makes it easier for them to remember it. There are several who prefer to mispronounce my given name -- Maiku or Maikaru are close enough, though.
It seems odd that Nancy would think knowing the "real" name was some sort of measure of closeness? It sounds as if she and Anna had a good relationship, even if they hadn't gotten into "real" names. I don't think your question was at all unusual.
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Date: 2008-11-15 12:28 pm (UTC)...which would be why the adjusted spelling of Second Son's name would bother you. Sorry 'bout that.
It seems odd that Nancy would think knowing the "real" name was some sort of measure of closeness?
She did place a lot of faith in the notion that there should always be perfect truth among friends. And here was a highly valued friend who had "lied" about something as basic as her name. Based on that, you can understand her upset, but clearly she hadn't thought the whole "perfect truth" concept through...
no subject
Date: 2008-11-15 02:03 pm (UTC)Does perfect truth mean all is revealed? There seems to be hints of that in Nancy's approach, which also means that once we are good friends, there is nothing more to be revealed -- kind of boring, actually? Somewhat like the common notion that husband and wife have somehow done a mind-merge, which would seem to mean that we would never need to talk again -- far from my experience!
no subject
Date: 2008-11-15 01:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-15 02:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-15 01:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-15 10:20 pm (UTC)