WHAT'S IN A NAME?

An essay about name calling, from the chapter "Mr. Cleve and Miz. Lula Belle"

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

It is not clear why Henry Alphonso changed the last name of his children to Deriso from Derouzaux, although I for one am glad he did.  I can’t imagine going through life lugging such a ponderous last name around.  Some say the name change came about over a falling-out over the ownership of a hog.  There has also been a case made that Henry Alphonso was literacy challenged and signed his name with a simple mark.  The clerk at the Sumter County courthouse, when completing the birth certificate for a new-born Derouzaux child, took the easy way out and spelled the name phonetically, hence, “Deriso.”  It really doesn’t matter if that was the reason or not, because if you get outside of a fifteen-mile radius from Leslie, nobody, including all of my Colorado kin folks, can correctly pronounce our name anyhow, regardless of the spelling. 

I have spent my entire life pronouncing my name for people.  All through public school and college I knew when the teacher or professor came to my name on the class roll because they would stop and look around the class expectantly.  I would say my last name out loud and they would continue calling the roll, obviously relieved.  I had a platoon sergeant in basic training who, inexplicably, called me “Dinerio” the entire time I was in his platoon.  He did that even while looking at my uniform blouse with the name “Deriso” clearly stenciled over the left pocket. 

The crowning touch occurred some years later when I received a business letter addressed to a “Mr. Disco.”  I like to opine that the sender had heard of my widely-known and acclaimed talent for the danse le’ discotheque, but, sadly, I do not think that was the case. 

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