Mostly through no fault of my own, I have ended up with several versions of my name, to the point that people who have known me for years get confused when they get an e-mail from me or read this blog. So I will detail here, as briefly as possible, the tortured history of my many names. After that, feel free to choose whichever one you like. I answer to all of them.
1. I am born and christened Maria Eulàlia Teresita Magina Francina Benejam Boqué. My main name, Eulàlia, places me under the protection of Santa Eulàlia, the patron of Barcelona, my birthplace. Teresita designates Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, on whose feast day I was born. Magina and Francina are the relatively baggage-free names of my maternal grandmother and my mother. For the first fourteen years of my life, everybody calls me Maria Eulàlia—no nicknames or abbreviations (I am five years old before I can say my own name correctly). Like everyone in Spain, I have two last names: Benejam, my father’s last name, and Boqué, my mother’s maiden name.
2. I arrive in the U.S. as a high-school freshman and start shedding names. Boqué is the first to go. Maria goes next, since Americans understandably take the easy way out and call me Mary, which I feel isn’t my “real” name. Teresita, Francina and Magina also go, and I become just plain Eulalia Benejam. This leads to much pain and angst through my high school and college years, as nobody can say my name and I find it embarrassing to have to explain its origins and pronunciation (eh-oo-lah-lee-ah) whenever I meet someone new.
3. I meet my husband-to-be. Even before the first date, he manages to pronounce my name perfectly, thus proving that incentive has a lot to do with linguistic performance. I notice that, among his many attractions, he comes equipped with a blessedly straightforward last name: Cobb.
4. I become Eulalia Benejam Cobb and use this name during my academic and freelance writing years. It’s still a mouthful, but in situations that require quick action I skip all but Cobb. Eventually my husband persuades me to give up the Spanish pronunciation of Eulalia in favor of the English-speaker-friendly u-lah-lee-ah. My friends breathe a sigh of relief.
5. For complicated reasons, I take a detour through the visual arts. Hawking my wares in stores, shows and art fairs, I realize that Eulalia Benejam Cobb is a business liability. Thinking that people should be able to say the name of the person whose art they are considering buying, I declare that my name shall, henceforth and forever, be simply Lali—no last name (like Dalí).
6. Though my friends and family are confused, Lali works pretty well. Some people, however, spell it “Lolly,” which makes me grit my teeth.
7. I buy my first laptop computer, begin this blog, and embrace my writing name again, Eulalia Benejam Cobb.
To my old friends who struggled through two versions of Eulalia only to have it morph into Lali, I apologize for changing my mind again. To newer friends who know me only as Lali, and to those of you whom I am meeting through this blog, you can call me anything you like. As long as it has some vowels in it, I’ll answer every time.
12 Responses
Hi Lali!
It was good to hear from you and to be relieved from the complications of your name. You have always been “Lali Cobb” to me, and I hope to see more of said person!
You know where to find me! I hope you know how fortunate you are, not having to spell/explain/justify your name to every time you meet someone.
I know the feeling, Lali, as I’ve been Dooreese, Doris, Doreechay and even Dorricky when people see my name. Like you, I let them take their pick. As ever, you have taken a topic, educated and amused us as we’ve come to know you better. Thank you!
Dorrice, I can just imagine! Still, what doesn’t kill us makes us strong, right?
Lali Benejam sounds great. Por acá a las Eulalias cariñosamente le llamamos Lali. Saludos.
Hola Roberto! De donde eres?
Sure beats plain old “Mary!”
I think that there is a lovely simplicity about your name.
I spent a lot of time practicing Eulalia. Think I finally got it right and now you tell me I could have called you something easier! Thanks Lali!
Dot (not difficult, but Dorothy is a little harder.
You did get it right! It took me another thirty years to finally throw in the towel and make the switch.
You name story sounds so much like my mother’s – starting with being born Rosario Elena Josefina and being called Pepita all her adult life.
I had the devil of a time getting documentation for all of these different names for the insurance after she died – neither she nor my dad ever made the effort to make sure the names were properly documented – and it took me about 18 months of interactions with SS in Trenton, NJ, including showing up in person, to clear it all up.
Daddy’s VA life insurance still had his parents! as beneficiaries when he died at 91. Another mess for his sick eldest daughter to have to straighten out – as I’m the only one living in the States of the five of us.
I then insisted my HUSBAND, whose parents had him baptized William Wesley, but changed to William Christopher at confirmation, and has two separate tracks through the paperwork (his Army records will forever have WW, for example) go to the courthouse and have his name OFFICIALLY changed to William Christopher – so I or the kids won’t have to do this when HE dies.
Yes, in principle, you can pick and use a single form, and that should suffice (my mother was Pepita C. Butcher on documents UNLESS someone insisted she sign as Rosario…), but doing it LEGALLY will save a lot of hair tearing-out for your heirs.
Please get any oddities documented, and a single LEGAL name, if you wish to be remembered more fondly. I think it cost about $25 and a copy of the whole kit and caboodle for the mate.
MY problem is that most of these documents insist on Alicia B. Ehrhardt, a form I abhor, in spite of ALL my legal documents using my full name.
That must have been onerous, to say the least. Thanks for the warning.