Guest Column
- What's Your Name?
By Manuel Hernandez-Carmona
When I attended grade school, my name was mispronounced often. Instead of the Spanish Manuel, teachers made an extreme effort when saying it and always ended up pronouncing it incorrectly. For them, I was Man-You-El. That wasn't my name, but I didn't dare correct my teachers. At home and to my childhood buddies, I was Junior. I was named after my father, and it was customary to call the son with the father's name. There were so many Juniors, but I did feel more in the family with that name.
- I grew up in North Tarrytown, New York in the late 1960's and
early 1970's. My parents had moved from Puerto Rico during the years
following the end of World War II. My mother escaped the vigilant and
watchful eye of my grandparents, and Father was encouraged to move to New
York for financial reasons. One hot humid Sunday afternoon, Manuel and
Carmen crossed their Latino eyes at a Pentecostal church in Brooklyn. The
rest is part of American history.
- When my family moved to Puerto Rico in October of 1974, my names
changed drastically. On the first day of school, my sixth grade teacher,
Mrs. Tapia, asked me, "Cual es tu segundo apellido?" I was dumbfounded.
You see, in the United States, my mother's last name was never needed,
mentioned or asked for in school. In Puerto Rico, a second last name was a
must. But Mrs. Tapia asked who my mother was and immediately knew that it
was Carmona. I hated it. I have nothing against my mother's last name, but
it was new for me, and I didn't like the sound of it. For me, Carmona was
half a car and half "mona" (female monkey).
- To add to insult and from that moment on, she always called me
Carmona and so did the rest of the teachers in that school. It just so
happened that all my eight aunts and four uncles had studied in Carolina
G. De Veve elementary school, and I as the oldest grandson was the new
Carmona in town. My "compaņeros de clase" called me Gringo and Nuyorican.
I didn't have a clue what those words meant, but they laughed and giggled
when they called me like that. Someone told me that Gringo was because I
had moved from the United States, and Nuyorican was supposed to mean that
I was half Puerto Rican and half New York Rican or something like that. I
hated those names too, but there were too many Boricuas to fight.
- When my families moved to another town, I thought that I could
get rid of Carmona, but there was a Math teacher that everyone said looked
like me and guess what his name was, Mr. Carmona. In high school, I began
to finally get away from Carmona but till this day, my high school
classmates still call me, Carmona. In college, I made several trips to New
York City, and there my hometown buddies made me feel at ease by once more
calling me Junior.
- When I enrolled in college, I started using Manuel as my new
name. It was the formal thing to do. Then I met Maria, my wife. She
introduced me to a tendered, younger name, Nene. Wow! I really liked that
one, especially when she kissed me right after she pronounced it with all
the love in her heart.
- When I became a teacher, students called me Mister Hernandez.
According to peers, the name demanded respect. I tried getting around that
one by telling students to call me just plain Hernandez and some did, but
I got new students all the time and they went back to calling me, Mister
Hernandez.
- Then the greatest thing happened! I finished my Master's degree
and was hired in my "alma mater", the University of Puerto Rico as an
instructor of English. There students called teachers, professors. All of
a sudden I was the Professor. That really built my ego. No more Mister, I
was the professor now. For three years, I was professor here, professor
there. Nice! But I did not earn a Doctorate, and the university sent me
back to the unemployment office.
- Thanks to a one on one confrontation within, I went back to the
beginning. Hey, I began as a teacher, so I went back to school teaching,
and my old name surfaced again, Mister Hernandez. For the first time in my
life, Mister Hernandez had a different tone, and I smiled when students
called my attention.
- When I became a father, Joey and Josue called me Papi. That one came with the territory. But for the last ten years, I have really made an effort to be called Manny. The nickname has smooth and swift connotations. First, there was a baseball player whose name was Manny Sanguillen. He played for the Pittsburgh Pirates during my childhood and teen years, and as a kid I admired his tenacity and intensity. I was not a Pirate fan, but all kids during the time watched Pirate baseball superstar Roberto Clemente play, and there was Manny right behind the plate. Second, I have always considered myself a simple quiet homeboy. I believe Manny stands for all that and more. I love the name. Carmona, well, that's another story. What's your name?
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