My favorite name for a boy is Alessandro. I’ve always regretted not having been named that. Later in life I discovered that Alessandro had actually been chosen as my first name. At the hospital, just after my birth, my parents gazed at me with wonder and amazement, then turned and looked at each other with grave concern and decided it would be too long, too complicated, too hard to pronounce, so they opted for the shorter, simpler, second place: Renato. I don’t think it would have made much of a difference. Renato, although shorter, proved still to be perplexing to most people. Renato is fairly simple to pronounce, but the average hit rate for getting it right, even to this day, is less than 10%, no matter how exaggeratedly I try to clearly pronounce it for someone.
Renato is pronounced Reh-nah-tow. Simple, right? The most common mispronunciation I get is Renaldo. Baffling as there is no L or D anywhere in it. Another variation is Reynaldo, depending on the mispronouncer’s accent. Irish people insist on pronouncing it Renata, discarding my masculinity entirely. The multitude of other interpretations have included Roberto, Ronaldo, Renardo and even Rento. There is something about the name that results in quick capitulation: people can’t seem to give the pronunciation a half-hearted try.
On a positive note, at least none of the gradeschool versions have continued into adulthood, so I have escaped dealing with friends and colleagues calling me Refarto or Retardo or Resnotto. Thank goodness for that, at least.
My last name, for those same people who have trouble with my first, has proven to be a stick of brain dynamite. Passalacqua usually goes completely awry after the first four letters. It’s easy to pronounce, Pah-Sah-Lah-Kwah. Four syllables and fairly simple, or so I thought.
For some obscure reason, it has often been transformed into an eastern European variation. Instead of Passalacqua, it would often become Passalowinski, or Passakowski, Passkolaski. There have even been some occasions it was converted to some sort of Russian-sounding Passalovich, Passkalovovich or Passalevoff. Renato to Ronaldo, I kind of get. But Passkalavovich?
When I was young, I fervently protected the proper pronunciation of my last name. Oftentimes there was a new or substitute teacher in school, and during the attendance call my name would be mispronounced. Reynaldo Passalaowinski? Ronaldo Passalovich? Roberto Passakolaski? I simply would not respond. I would be marked absent. At the end of roll call the teacher would ask the class if anyone had been missed. I would raise my hand, pronounce my name correctly and observe as the completely baffled teacher went down the list coming across the strange, long, unpronounceable name, realizing it was probably the one she had just heard from the pimply smart ass punk kid in the back.
As I grew older I realized protecting my name and forcing people to pronounce it correctly was a futile endeavor and simply exhausting. I started to take it in stride and just tried to have fun with it. One day I even decided to avoid the last name altogether, using my first name only, as if I were some famous singer or artist.
“Hi! I’m Bill Smith. And you are?”
“Renato. Reh. Nah. Tow.”
“Nice to meet you, Ronaldo! What’s your last name?”
“No last name. I just go by Roberto”
Renato Passalacqua 