What's In A Name?

For twenty-seven years, I fought tooth and nail for people to pronounce my last name correctly.  "It sounds just like it's spelled," I'd say, while the person trying to pronounce it would either butcher it or give up before even trying.  Chabalewski...yes, it looks like a mouthful with all of its eleven letters, but in actuality, it's really quite easy.  I could spell and say it by age 4, while the rest of the world seemed to admit defeat at the "C".  I've heard every possible butchering that I can only imagine should have been spelled like these...Chabalenski (Chab-uh-len-skee; there is not a single "n" in my name), Chabalowski (Chab-uh-low-skee; ok, no "o" whatsoever), Chabaleski (Chab-uh-les-skee; where'd the "w" go?), and my favorite, "Well, I'm not going to even try."  On the first day of school when teachers would take role, I'd raise my hand in acknowledgement of my presence at the mere sound of "Ch".  Chab-uh-loo-skee.  It's not tough, I promise.  All my friends and family are doing it!  Try it; you'll see!

Then I got married and had no doubt that Lenahan was going to erase any bad memory I had of name mispronunciation.  How hard could that seven letter name be?  Boy, I had that one wrong.  It's pronounced "Len-uh-han".  All short vowels, for those of you who remember short and long vowel sounds.  I hear all sorts of crazy variations...Leen-uh-han, Lend-a-hand (seriously?), Lend-a-han, Leen-han.

I heard my new favorite today while in the waiting room at a doctor's office.  The nurse walked through the office door with a chart and called "Mrs. Line-um".  Since I didn't recognize this name as my own, I looked around to see who was going to get up and walk through the door with her, only to realize that maybe she was talking about me.  (The only comparison I could make to my name was that it too started with the letter "L".)  When nobody got out of their seat, I asked her if it was "Len-uh-han".  Never in a million years would I have thought that I should be the one to get the dirty look and "huff and puff" for pronouncing MY name correctly!  The nurse acted as if I was questioning her; I merely asked because I wasn't sure she was actually calling ME.  Her attitude continued all the way down the LONG hallway to the doctor's office.  I still can't believe she was angry at me...since she butchered MY name, shouldn't I have been the one to get angry at her?  (For the record, I wouldn't have because I am a nice person.)

Lesson learned today...pay attention in Phonics class in elementary school.  There really are great lessons to learn!

I Didn't Come To The Concert To Watch YOU!

Last week, we went to the 311 concert in Virginia Beach.  We have been going to see them play each year for the last 15 years as it has been Fran's favorite band since high school, and one of mine since he introduced them to me in college.  We always have a great time; we listen to their music and take in the new sounds that they have been working on for the previous year.  However, each year we go, we get older.  That may sound like an obvious statement, but what I really mean is that we get older and the youngest seem to get younger (and more risque).

When we were nineteen and seeing them play, we had a tolerance for distractions that can come with being in close quarters with others.  As we age (to our current "young" age of thirty-five), our tolerance for distraction has diminished greatly.  In other words, it seems that the increase in our age is indirectly proportionate to the amount of irritating distractions we can handle.

With the soaring costs of tickets and fees, we make only a few demands.  To the Jersey Shore guys next to us who thought it was "cool" to dance side-to-side and interrupt our view every 2.5 seconds, dance vertically and not horizontally.  To the three attendees in our near vicinity, Facebook is not to be checked during a concert.  To the girls in the row in front of us who were so utterly scantily clad, put some clothes on.  To those same girls, your bottom is not designed to be shaken like that except in a gentlemen's club.  And to those Jersey Shore dudes, videotaping said gentleman's club dancers on your smart phones is, alas, not so smart.

We attend concerts at $50-60 a pop because we absolutely love music.  It's not necessarily a social event for us; it really is all about the music.  We love the instruments, we love the band members, and we love the memories that the music creates for us.  We always attend 311 concerts with my sister-in-law and her husband, and we always make memories at these concerts.  This year, we just have some memories that we hope won't stay with us forever.  Aside from the fantastic music, of course.

Believe it or not, the moral of the story is not for us to loosen up.  We are fairly cool, mid-thirties people.  But I'll use a few cliches to sum up what I learned:

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be pole dancers; and
You can lead a horse to the concert, but you can't make it listen to the music.