My whole life I have endured having a difficult name to pronounce. My earliest childhood recollections are of that horrid first day’s roll call at school – painfully waiting for the teacher to ascend alphabetically towards my name – waiting for it to be verbally butchered in front of my sweet little classmates. It made me cringe because I knew the insults from the wisenheimers were only moments away.

Teachers had no problem with Adams, Baker, or Clark. Even Clarke worked just fine. Evans was oh so easy. “Here,” shouted little Tommy Franks when his name was so easily called out. I was starting to not feel very well. “Garner?” “Here I am teacher,” shouted little Laura. What a doll. I think I loved her. The tide was rising. I was up next.

I’ve always been an observer of eyebrows as an accurate human communication transmitter. I think it started with the school roll call gauntlet I had to run through every year. The teacher’s eyebrows foretold of what was soon to come my way. Upon looking at my last name the eyebrows morphed quickly from certain and commanding to puzzled and confused. “A well now let’s see here is it pronounced Hair ASS Tea? – Valley Joe Hair ASS Tea is he here? Everyone snickered and laughed even Laura Garner. I raised my hand and took the humiliation hit – every year.

FYI. Haraszthy is pronounced differently depending on who’s saying it. Hungarians with their Zsa Zsa Gabor or Bella Lagosi / Dracula accent say Whoreusthee, with the accent on Whore. Over the six generations my family has lived in California we have come to say Harristy.

Too many times to count, the phone will ring. “Hello is Mr…… Hair ASS Tea in?” I hang up before they take their next breadth. And by the way, its Va lay ho not Valley jo. But whatever – I’m used to it.

Take care / Vallejo Haraszthy