OPEN END-O
A Rose By Any Other Name
By Ellen Endo
Sunday, May 3, 2009

“The be­ginning of wis­dom is to call things by their right names.” —Chinese proverb

Shakespeare opined that “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” That’s true unless, of course, your name is Rose and people start calling you “Petunia.” In that case, you should insist that they stop call­ing you… period.

I saw a You Tube video this week showing State Rep. Betty Brown of Texas saying that Asian Americans—Japanese, Chinese, Koreans—should change their names to something “easier for Americans to deal with.”

Just when you thought it was safe to go to North Texas, here comes Rep. Brown, a mature, white haired woman you might expect to find en­forcing the Dewey Decimal System at the local library.

Instead, Rep. Brown sits in the State Legislature, arguing about transliteration with Ramey Ko, young Asian American man, who explained why the state should adjust its voter registration laws requiring that names match exactly. The man patiently explains that Asian names originate in characters, such as kanji for the Japanese. The Romanized versions are known as transliterations.

I’m convinced that it was that word “transliteration” that befuddled Rep. Brown and not Asian names. After all, as one TV commentator pointed, Chinese have the easi­est names ever—Lee, Yang, Woo. Monosyllabic Korean names are easy, too—Kim, Min, Sung.
Japanese names, on the other hand, can be challenging. “Miriki­tani” takes some practice. And, with “Miyagishima,” I never know where the emphasis should go—on the “gi” or on the “shi.”

On the other hand, people hardly ever mispronounce “Endo” or “Su­zuki” or “Honda.” So who am I to complain?

Is Rep. Brown a racist? Probably not. Did she make a racist com­ment? I’m afraid so. Why do Texas politicians make it so easy to laugh at them?

Strangely, I found myself filled with empathy for Rep. Brown. Con­sider for a moment that your first name is “Betty” and your last name “Brown.”

Names don’t come much more mundane. Brown is the color of dirt and cows and cow pies. Even though it is also the color of things like fudge and new shoes, the sound of it lands on the ears with a dull thud.

Add to this the fact that there’s a traditional dish known as Apple Brown Betty. Imagine going through life, nay, through grade school, named after a dessert. Oh, the tire­less teasing!

Therefore, I suggest that Rep. Brown change her name. Yes, change it immediately. She should not endure one more day being likened to baked apples topped by brown sugar.

In his book, “The Catcher in the Rye,” J. D. Salinger writes, “You always got these very lumpy mashed potatoes on steak night, and for des­sert you got Brown Betty, which nobody ate, except maybe the kids in the lower school that didn’t know any better—and guys like Ackley that ate everything.”

It’s no wonder that Betty wants people to change their names. If only she could do it, too. I suggest that she look to other ethnicities. The name “Brown” sounds so much more lyrical in Spanish: Marron. Or in Swedish, it’s “Brunt.” In Japanese, it’s “bu-rah-un.”

So, yes, I think names are im­portant. And, I am kidding when I suggest that there’s something wrong with going through life as “Betty Brown.” But it’s ludicrous to suggest that anyone alter his or her name for the sake of someone else’s convenience.

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“Any child can tell you that the sole purpose of a middle name is so he can tell when he’s really in trouble.”
—Dennis Frakes (1917-1998) author

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I stopped by the Nikkei Matsuri on Sunday in San Jose with my child­hood friend, Tonia Izu. Tonia and her husband, Allen, who were originally from Southern California, raised eight children in San Jose.

Another SoCal transplant wrote to me recently:

“I enjoyed your column about San Jose. I am a former Southern Californian who reads the Rafu after our local Hokubei Mainichi started printing in Oregon and delivery was delayed every single day. If the paper was going to be late a week, I decided to read the Rafu for a change.

“I’ve not checked out Roy’s Sta­tion, but I park near there on Jackson Street on the Sundays I attend either the English or nichigobu services at the Wesley United Methodist Church. I go there because I worked for a year in Japan at two church schools teaching English. People at Wesley know my friends back in Japan, so it’s a comfort.

“But next time you’re up here, go down to Saratoga Avenue and turn left on De Mille and have some Nagasaki chanpon (noodles topped with vegetables) at Ringer Hut.

“And lastly, two years ago in Sakaide, Kagawa, I was visiting friends I met in the nichigobu services at the San Jose Wesley UMC. I was in a supermarket get­ting things with Kaori Tajiri, the wife of my friend, when on the PA system in the supermarket I heard the song, ‘Do You Know the Way to San Jose?’

“Yes, I think we do! Even folks in Sakaide, Kagawa, know the way! Cheer, Doug Clark.”

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Weeks turn into years, how quick they pass
And all the stars that never were
Are parking cars and pumping gas.
I’ve got lots of friends in San Jose.
Do you know the way to San Jose?
Can’t wait to get back to San Jose.
—Lyrics by Burt Bacharach
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Opinions expressed do not neces­sarily reflect those of The Rafu Shim­po or its management. Comments and/or inquiries should be directed to ellenendo@yahoo.com.