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Melvin's blog
Nshima & Curry
Melvin's Blog
Nshima & Curry
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MY NAME IS MELVIN, NOT MEL OR MARVIN
It happened again the other day. Someone
called me "Mel." He completely ignored the
"vin" part of my name. Just took it upon himself
to slice my name in half.
That’s a liberty I prefer to reserve for a few
select people, most notably my mother.
Mom calls me anything she wants. Always has.
Even though she and my dad spent months
pondering a name for me, that name is often
inadequate. Especially when I’m not the model
son she had pictured during those nine long
months.
She usually resorts to names in her mother
tongue, an Indian language called Tamil. Even
if I wanted to embarrass myself, I couldn’t
translate them in a family newspaper.
I usually don’t complain about all my
mother-given aliases. Such name-calling is
protected in the Maternal Bill of Rights.
But it’s much harder for me to ignore assaults
on my name by other people. Most of the
offenders call me "Mel." Others call me
"Marvin" or "Alvin." A few call me "Melv."
My last name is battered even more, but that’s
somewhat understandable. After all, it isn’t a
household name like Smith or Jones or
Lewinsky.
But "Melvin" shouldn’t give anyone trouble.
In fact, before I came to America almost two
decades ago, no one ever called me "Mel."
Yet shortening everything is almost an
obsession in the United States, or should I say
the U.S.
People love to shorten words and names.
They’ve shrunk some names in ways that
baffle me. No matter how hard I look, I can’t
see a Dick in Richard. And William has no
Bill – just an ill. Robert has a Rob, but no Bob.
Such contractions obviously give Al Gore a
slight edge over George Bush. We can save
four letters, not to mention all those moving
expenses.
Presidential candidates with longer names
such as Dukakis have as much chance of
being elected as Joey Buttafuoco.
But people with simple names can also fall
victim to the short craze. I sympathize with the
reader who recently wrote a letter to the editor
criticizing an article for misusing his first name.
The article, about hand washing in the
bathroom, referred to the toilet as the "john."
Of course, saying "john" instead of
"bathroom," "rest room" or "lavatory" saves
half the time. And time can be valuable,
especially if you’re in a hurry to use the
…uh…john.
During my first weeks in America, I was
surprised to hear a fellow college freshman
say, "I need to use the can." The next time I
went to the bathroom, I took a can opener.
Some abbreviations confused me too. After
wondering what PMS meant, I figured it out
myself: premarital sex. There was a lot of PMS
going on in college. And everywhere else, too.
I also wondered why so many students liked
HBO (human body odor).
One student named Brian Thomas was known
merely as B.T. He had an extremely high IQ,
and maintained a good GPA (grade point average).
His ease with numbers amazed me because I
had enough trouble remembering the PIN (personal
identification number) of my MAC card, which
meant I couldn’t use the ATM (automated teller
machine) to see whether I had enough money
to pay the IRS. If only I had ESP. Instead, I have
ESPN, which I can record on my VCR. But if I
try to sell tapes of NFL games, the FBI might
come after me and the DA might prosecute me.
When I’m on the computer at work, I
occasionally get e-mail from the system
manager telling me to log off PDQ (pretty darn
quick). Sometimes the e-mail begins with the
abbreviation FYI (for your information), warning
me that I might learn something.
My boss surprised me once when he told me
to "write this story ASAP." I thought he said,
"Write this story, you sap."
Nobody calls me a sap.
Except my mom.
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