A Rose By Any Other...

In many creation stories, one of the first things that the newly-created human (usually a man) does is to name the things around him. After all, it would quickly get mighty confusing labeling everything as "this thingie here" and "that thingie there."

Let's face it, names are a major slice of the communication pie. We are simply hard-wired to name things.

Names can be a source of power. Or they can be baggage.

The task of naming is not one to be taken lightly.

How many children have suffered school yard taunts on account of some parents' lack of forethought and mindfulness in selecting a new name for their precious bundle of joy?

Sometimes the embarrassment of a name may not come until years later when a new bride assumes the last name of her husband.

Oh pity the plight of poor Ophelia upon marrying a man whose last name is Cox! (Sorry, I could not resist!) If there is ever a case for a woman to retain her maiden name, this is surely it.

But sometimes, a name that is perfectly "safe" in one culture may cause that person grief upon transplanting to a new culture.

In Lithuania, my name ~ Neringa ~ was as common as Susan, Mary, and Jane is here. (Or should I say, "Ashley, Brittany, and Tiffany?")

"Neringa" is a venerable name steeped in Lithuanian folkloric tradition.

Because people could never pronounce it correctly my mother told people to call me "Nelly." Believe me, when you're just a little kid fresh off the boat in the 60s, you don't want to be called "Nelly."

So "Nelly" only stuck around long enough to take the next boat back.

"Neringa" did not have it any easier.

It was bad enough getting taunted for my nose. But enduring the daily chants of "Ner-RING-gah-round-the collah!" was enough for me to loudly complain to my mother, "Why couldn't you have named me 'Cathy' instead?"

Despite how unwieldy the accenting and pronunciation of my name was on the unaccustomed tongue, I was never one for nicknames. "Nelly" made sure of that.

As much of a burden my name carried in this land and culture, it was a name that I eventually grew proud of because of it being richly steeped in my cultural heritage.

Nicknames simply wouldn't do because they would compromise my cultural identity. And Lithuanian nicknames would not work because they were just as difficult to pronounce, if not worse.

That is not to say that I didn't give nicknames a fair shot.

When I was working at our local post office, we had to identify ourselves when we answered the telephone. After having more than one confused caller (from our non-cosmopolitan neck of the woods) say "Wah?" I decided to try "Inga."

Aside from the great temptation to answer the phone in a Swedish accent, and people mistaking "Inga" for "Linda," it just did not feel right. It was not me.

I could never get used to myself as an "Inga," no matter how many years I used it professionally.

It was much easier having people call me "Ringie," "Ring," or just plain "Ralph."

And that was certainly more favorable than hearing the constant and grating mispronunciation of my name.

For the record, my name is pronounced something like "NETTING- ah," not "Ner-RING-ga," which is how most people pronounce it.

"Hey! But there's no 't' in your name!"

That is correct.

What sounds like a "t" in English is actually a very subtly rolled "r" in Lithuanian. Having spoken Lithuanian since birth, the "r" sound is quite evident and obvious to my ears. However, that is not the same case with people who have only grown up with the English language.

In fact, I must give credit to my husband, Neil, for coming up with such a clever way to help people remember my name.

He reminded people that we live by the coast where there is a fishing community. The fishing boats use netting in order to catch fish. So, think of "netting" and then add an "ah" at the end of that. And there you have it: "Neringa!"

Not only is that a clever way of helping people remember my name, Neil had no idea just how fitting that explanation was.

You see, it wasn't until much later on, when I was doing research into the origins of my name that I came across an interesting story.

The story was actually a folktale about a giant name Neringa.

The giant Neringa lived by the shore of the Baltic Sea. Every day she would watch the human fishermen of the village go off in their boats to catch fish for their village.

Because Neringa felt great affection for her neighboring humans, she would get very concerned for the fishermen who would daily risk their lives in dangerous waters.

Her compassion and care for them was so great, that one day she filled her apron with sand and wandered out into sea. When she was far enough away from the shore, she dumped the sand into the water and thus created a sheltered lagoon for the humans to fish in safety.

Today that lagoon bears her name and is a popular resort and vacation spot in Lithuania.