My mother is an author.
I feel like this explains a great many oddities in my life. She’s also a therapist; this explains the rest.
However, it is her authorial creativity that resulted in the subject of this blog.
My name.
My name is Tawny. A perfectly lovely name, one I have always cherished. However, it is also a name that hardly anyone has ever heard of. This is because it is the sort of name which is more normally chosen, later in life, as a stage name (as was coyly explained by a date. Subtext: it is a stripper name). Mom occasionally claims that she and dad thought it over beforehand, but I’m pretty convinced that this is what happens when you give a woman a birth certificate form when she is high off her butt on painkillers after a C-section, and there are soap operas on the hospital television.
As a biologist, I actually hear the word Tawny more commonly than most, since it is a color. Tawny describes a golden-brown, like the color of a lion. A quick Wikipedia search of “Articles Beginning with Tawny” describes a stunning 103 species of animal with names starting with Tawny, as well as three porn stars and one article on fortified wine.
Some of the more interesting animals with which I share a name:
The Tawny Frogmouth: an owl with expressions so amazing, it pretty much evolved so that people on the internet could put captions on it.
The Tawny-Speckled Pug: Inexplicably, a moth!
The Tawny Arboreal Rice Rat: Everything you could ever want to know about this animal, summed up in its incredibly unwieldy name. Thanks biologists!
One of the most interesting parts of having an unusual (made up) name is the moment of introducing yourself to someone new.
“Hi, I’m Tawny,” I say, a lifetime of bearing this name causing me to enunciate very clearly and slowly. Their smile freezes, extended hand pausing as they attempt to sort this new information.
“…Toni?” They attempt valiantly. Maybe I mispronounced it. Maybe they misheard it. They say it so clearly I can even hear the ‘i’ at the end, because surely I have a girl’s name. Obviously it isn’t Tawny, that isn’t a name.
“Tawny,” I repeat firmly, but kindly. This happens literally every time.
“Uh… I’m sorry, again?”
“Taw-ny.” At this point, I usually try spelling it for them. “Like the color?” I don’t know why I still try this, no one but biologists know tawny is a color. “Or the port?”
“…Tawny. That’s a color?” Yeah, I don’t know why I tried. At this point, we’ve spent so long trying to get my name across that they will always remember it, and we glazed over their name so quickly I’ve already forgotten it. This is my excuse for being terrible at remembering names, and I’m holding to it.
Another great moment is at Starbucks. The cheery barista scribbles on the cup, their words ten seconds behind their brain, when the pen halts halfway through my name. Wait. Not Tania? Not Tammy? …Did she say Connie? Or, possibly, Bonny? They scratch out whatever it was they wrote and try again. I say it again, slowly, and spell it, but they aren’t really listening, they’re just trying to figure out how to write it so that the person making the drink will say a close approximation. And this is where things get really interesting.
There is only one way to say Tawny if you see it written. It couldn’t be more unambiguous. But do you know how many different ways you can spell Tawny and have the sounds all come out right?
Tawney
Tawnie
Tawnee
Tahnee
Tawneigh
Tonnie
Tonay
These are all things that I have seen written on cups. The person calling out the name at the end stops and looks at it, confused. They say "I have a Grande Vanilla Latte for... uh... I have a Grande Vanilla Latte!" Upon reflection, I kind of feel bad for stressing out all these baristas. I am throwing a wrench in their finely tuned assembly line coffee process. Maybe I should start saying “Kate” or something.
But for all the extra work having a pseudo-name causes, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’m so fond of my unique name that the only time I’ve met another Tawny, I challenged her to a duel over the right to be the only Tawny.
Pretty sure she thought I was crazy.
Er. I do admit to being high on pain meds, and eenie-meenie-miney-mo-ing between Tawny and Zoe. You almost were Zoe. Your dad had left at a bad time.
ReplyDeleteBut it was the middle name I have no good explanation for. Lynne? What does that have to do with anything???
I was LOLing throughout, I had no idea it was so cognitively challenging for people. I meant to do better by your name than my name did by me--alas, to no avail.
But I meant to call you golden brown, because that's what you've always been. My Tawny girl.
To entertain ourselves on nerd-competition trips in high school, we made up names in the plethora of Starbucks situations that presented themselves. Often I was "God." Or "Jesus." Or sometimes "Beth." I go "Veronica" these days.
ReplyDeleteMy bff's daughter's name is Tawny. I should ask her if she has the same problem. I, for one, do have an unusual name. It's Val-Rae. Yeah, try having a name with a *hyphen* in it! I sometimes shorten it to Val, but that causes other problems, as my father-in-law's name is Val. So yes, that's confusing. I totally get what you're saying, and I'm wondering now if my problem with names isn't because we do spend so much time trying to get my name figured out that I forget the other person's. It was a problem when I worked at the Seattle Design Center, because I had to answer phones, and they actually asked me to change my name. And that's when I realised how much it means to me. I was named after my grandparents, Val and Ray, and it is a unique name. I feel like it gave me permission in a way to be my own unique person. Peer pressure has never been an issue for me. I was already different. I didn't have to compete with all the Lisa's and Jenny's in my life. I was just me, and that was good enough.
ReplyDeleteYou have a lovely daughter, Toby.
And I do see how you could have a LOT of fun with those Starbucks barista's. Ha ha ha.