Geraldine by any other name….
I found an old name list long ago with my name circled on it. Of the hundreds of possibilities, my Latin mother chose Geraldine. She liked the name. The only other Geraldine she knew was Geraldine Chaplin. Trips to Bountiful and Ferraros were not yet in the picture.
Latin people put a lot of thought into naming their children. The most common being Maria and Jesus. Most of us have more than one name and at least two last names. I have a friend named Graciela Milagros Johanna Costas Oliveras. We are usually named after a few aunts and/or uncles, and we carry our father’s family name and retain our mother’s family name following it.
Despite our machismo mentality, it is common for women to keep their maiden name, and some women actually use a preposition – de – if they choose to add their husbands’ family name to their own. Hence Martha Ferrera would become Martha Ferrera de Fortunato. De, meaning belonging to in the olden days…
My mami was different. Her rebellious nature made her throw convention out the window, when choosing my phonetically challenging first and only name. My friends had more options – they could go for any one of their names as teenagers. Mami ensured that I would only have one choice — no middle prenom to turn to.
So, Geraldine Dondis I became. Never to be spelled or pronounced correctly in my humble Puerto Rican surroundings. Sounds of chiming bells followed by turning heads and giggles throughout childhood. “Ge-ral-din… don.. dis… din… don… dis…”
I got used to Geraldine and eventually even came to be fond of it. I was the only Geraldine I ever met. There was never any wasted verbiage trying to clarify whether it was Maria from the farm, or Maria who stole Tita’s boyfriend, or Maria la bisca.
My girlfriends would come to my front gate, always locked — it’s Puerto Rico after all — and yell, Geeeeeraaaaldeeeen! We do have doorbells, but they are rarely used.
I no longer use Geraldine. Oddly enough, when I moved to St. Louis at 17, and finally was in a culture that had some knowledge of its spelling and pronunciation, I was forced to change my name to Geri.
They say middle school can be rough on kids. That is nothing compared to finding yourself in the middle of the Midwest, and the second choice private university for half of New York’s Jewish community. Being a precocious Newyorican did not help much either. Going by Geraldine was the cherry on top, pretty much handing every newly introduced east coast 18-year old the next line of the stand up.
For weeks I thought Americans were kind of strange, for as soon as they heard my name they would break into flamboyant arm movements and their voices would go up a few octaves. Funny people. The language barrier did not help. My English was classroom learned, with no reference whatsoever to slang or idiomatic expressions.
Trying to make the best out of these situations, I smiled politely and went on with my business. I learned about America mostly from dubbed Spanish T.V. We got some shows like Sesame Street, Family Feud, Zoom, and Starsky and Hutch. We did not ever get to meet the real Geraldine! Apparently every kid my age loved Flip Wilson — who was busy ruining my name while I was growing up trying to get used to it!
Enter Geri. Nobody can spell it, and half the time they think I am a he, but the days of shrieking young gringos are far behind me.
June 5th, 2008 at 7:48 pm
Geri,
I think that this will be an economical way of getting out the spasms of your OCD, but I want you to know I accept you for you! And I love you regardless! I can’t wait to read what really goes on in your head! haha Thanks for having me in Florida!
June 20th, 2008 at 9:43 pm
Geri,
Boy, do I know more about you! I loved reading all of your blogs. We all miss you at the beach. I feel like I know you better now!
Love,
Linda