Musings-12dec99

Sunday, December 12, 1999

What's in a name?

So last week when I responded to Jan Svenson informing me that I'd spelled his name wrong, I mentioned that my name was spelled the Midwestern American way, i.e. M-A-R-C-I-A. To which, the learned Robert Thompson wrote:

And it is also, of course, the traditional Roman spelling, used from at
least since Republican times. Women have been named "Marcia" for at least
2,500 years. "Marsha" and other variants are relatively modern. I assume you
pronounce it in the modern fashion, "mar-shuh", rather than as
"mar'-see-uh", "mar-see'-uh", "mar'-kee-uh", or "mar-kee'-uh". I've actually
known various women over the years who used all of those pronunciations,
including one who periodically changed her favored one.
Bob
--
Robert Bruce Thompson
thompson@ttgnet.com
http://www.ttgnet.com

To address Bob's informational email (and, thanks for that, Bob!): I loved my parents dearly but I seriously suspect that they hadn't any idea that they were choosing to spell my name in the "traditional Roman spelling"-- Yup, I'm pretty sure I can say that without a doubt. As for the pronunciation, which is a pain most of the time, you are correct in that my name is pronounced as "mar-shuh" as opposed to the other pronunciations that you note or that I've heard over the years, most of which remind me of fingernails on a chalkboard in reaction. The easiest way for me to inform someone of how my name is pronounced is to point out the "C-I-A" and remind them of the spellings of the words commerCIAl and judiCIAl. That usually embarrasses them into spelling my name correctly.

When I lived in Texas (which, by the way, is far too close to the Mexican border for someone with the name of Marcia spelled with the C-I-A to live), I worked for a very, VERY southern gentleman who insisted on calling me "Marci". Funny thing but he couldn't understand why he had to call my name so many times before I would respond. One day he asked me why I wouldn't come when he called and I told him "Mr. Banes, no one calls me 'Marci' except you so I don't KNOW that I'm supposed to respond-- its not a nickname I've ever been called before so I don't respond to it-- in fact, I don't like it." His response was: "Well, hell, Marci, why didn'tcha say so?" I cringed one more time and thought to myself, "BECAUSE IT WOULDN'T HAVE MADE A DIFFERENCE, MR. BANES-- IT JUST WOULDN'T HAVE MADE A DIFFERENCE!!!!"

Then, of course there are the unique and unusual references to the "John and Marcia" (or was that one "Marsha") advertisements of the 60s and 70s: Breathlessly said to one another as . . . "John" . . . "Marcia" . . . "John" . . . "Marcia". PUH-LEEZE!!! Or the incredibly unique "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!!" (who is spelled that way) uttered in total frustration by "Jan Brady" on The Brady Bunch.

Reminiscences

Recently in email conversations with Tom Syroid and Delanae Crider (Doc Jim's better half-- I'm sure!) separately, different memories came charging to the foreground . . . they were pleasant memories so its okay, 'kay? In an email being written to me, Tom misspelled my name as "Marica"-- the same way that my father misspelled my name whenever he had to write my name. Coincidently, in a reference to our conversation about typing (see above) and spellings of Svenson's name in his journal (I used to have a link to his site here but, it is now a 404 so, when Jan tells me how to get there again, I'll reinstate the link), he also spelled my name "Marica".

Please don't misunderstand: These are not bad things but good things because it really does remind me of my father and when those reminders happen, as infrequently as they do, I know that they are my Dad's way of slipping into my mind to give me a gentle reminder that he's still there, watchng over me, just like he always did. Today, December 12, is the 16th anniversary of my father's death; it was sad for me then but, as time goes on, it gets easier and I still have many memories like the one that I shared with Delanae:

When I turned 18, I registered to vote. I was so proud that I could vote and cancel out at least one Republican each time I voted, I had to show my dad my voter registration card. He looked at it and said: "That's real nice. Do they charge extra to spell your name wrong?" I looked at my pink card and couldn't figure out what he was talking about . . . "What do you mean" my mother said, taking the card from me very gingerly. She had been there when the county clerk gave it to me and proudly admired it with me as we walked back out to the car. "Well, there", he said, pointing at my middle name, "They didn't spell her middle name right!" I looked at the card and stared hard at it . . . "Dad, that's how my middle name is spelled: L-E-E." "It is?" he said with a startled expression on his face, rapidly turning to my mother: "I thought we agreed on L-E-A?" My mother, turning back to the dishes in the sink, "Oh, that-- no, you agreed on that spelling but I filled out the form."

I continued my memory-stories in the email with Delanae:

Ah, but it gets worse/better!! So at 19 I move out of the house and, because I'm going to college and working at least part time if not full-time in the summer, every now and again, my dad has to loan me money or give me a birthday gift so he writes me a check. The check is ALWAYS payable to "Marica L. Dykstra". He could NOT spell my first name correctly; he would pronounce it correctly but could not spell my name for the life of either of us! The banks would always take the checks but I thought it was hilarious!

Sometime after my dad died, I found a letter he'd written to me when I was living in Dallas; it began, "Dear Marica" and I lost it totally . . . cried for over an hour about that one, I think.

So, there you have the promised input for the 12th of December.

Current "Musings"