What's in a name?

When introducing myself, I offer “See John Run” as a helpful addendum. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

Past variations include:

“Sayjin,” rhymes with Cajun (mispronounced by cousin’s ex-husband but probably not the reason why their marriage didn’t work out)

“Cezanne,” you know, that painter

“Sichuan,” a very tasty rendition

“Dijon,” zesty!

It’s not a common name so never a personal affront taken when not pronounced properly.  One rare exception? Summer school of ’93. Spanish 101. Indignant that a language teacher failed to see the importance of proper pronunciation, I corrected his stressing of the wrong syllable.  “Same thing,” he dismissed. “No, it’s not. It’s like me calling you Da ‘Vid, David.” (Cheekiness to authority a rare exception as well.)

The Davids and Janes of the world may not quite understand how we, the Uncommonly Named, navigate our way through certain social situations. How to correct someone without appearing overly fastidious (must be done in a light, breezy manner and a smile, “oh, it’s actually xxx”). Avoiding embarrassing 3rd or 4th encounters with someone who still thinks your name is Saint John (offer them a nickname variant, “sometimes they call me Sej”).

There are times when it’s just not worth the effort. Once in a bar, this man who spent twenty minutes taking self-portraits with his cell phone while his girlfriend flirted with neighboring strangers, decided to ask everyone at the table, “Wassyer naaamesuh?” My friend succinctly stated “Marine” as in biology rather than offering the correct pronunciation of ‘Ma ree nay. And I understood her purposeful bastardization immediately. She was avoiding endless repetition to this man who kept threatening to Facebook us all.

And really, what’s in a name? Simply a string of characters spoken aloud to get someone’s attention? Not quite. Naming is serious business. Parents agonize and bicker over what to name their babies, searching for something they could live with for life. The sound, meaning, weighing against cruel schoolyard nicknames. There’s even a documentary about names. I wonder how parents justify names like Cherry, Candy, Apple. Some fail big time. Like the unfortunate girl named “Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii” (true story). Or Hitler.

I do wonder if names define and shape one’s personality. Like growing up quick and mean if I were A Boy Named Sue. As a matter of fact, I was a Su. Back in 3rd grade. Tired and embarrassed by teachers butchering the name, I announced I was now “Su.” Not pulled out from just anywhere, it was the name my mother planned to give me but after my uncle misspelled “Su Jan” with “Sejan” on my birth certificate, mom liked it, kept it as is. It wasn’t until my 20’s did I realize I should take pride in my Korean name and reclaimed Sejan.

And now? I rather like my unusual name. There are so few Sejans in the googleverse that I’m the first three links that show up in an ego-surf. I can usually register just my first name on sites. And I like hearing new variations when meeting new folks. I really do.

My conclusion? A rose by any other name may *not* smell as sweet.