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Sunday, March 04, 2012

A rose by any other name is...another flower

My name is Carmel -- pronounced like Carmel-By-The-Sea in California. Despite the fact that the majority of my life people called me Car-mul, that's not how it's pronounced.

In the past few months, I've been called that and Carmen and Carmelita and Camille. Sometimes I grin and bear it but most of the time, I correct people both verbally and in written form. Why? Because that's not my name.

I'm named after my paternal grandmother. I like my name. There was a time that I did not like it, but it is after all my name. Yes, I'm known by a whole like of other monikers from Cissy to O.N.C. (only my running friends know what that stands for)to Mom, "E" and Mimi.

Our name is the first thing we own. It's ours. It's part of, a great big part of, what makes us, us. Think about how often you've met someone and thought, "Wow, they don't look like a ...." fill in the blank there, but you know what I mean.

Imagine if Elvis' name had been Roger, or how a country girl like Norma Jean changed to fit the name given to her by the Hollywood machine.

We are our name. So don't take it personally if I correct you should you mispronounce my name. It's Carmel with an L, no N.

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