“WHAT’S
IN A NAME?” *
The first time I heard the
name Shakespeare I was
a little girl growing up on
Staten Island. My cousin had a
good friend, Miriam Shakespeare,
and as I think about it, her name
probably emanated from the long
line of Shakespearakovich’s from
somewhere in Russia. I don’t think
I ever heard of the “Bard” Willie
Shakespeare until I got into high
school. In the pictures I saw of him,
he always seemed to be wearing
knickers and ruffled collars on his
shirts. He kind of looked funny to
me, but hey, growing up on Staten
Island, anything other than a loin-cloth
2021
December ¢looked funny to me.
COURIER After I escaped from, oh sorry,
left Staten Island, and went to col-lege,
I learned to love and appreci-ate
Shakespeare for what he was.
TOWERS He was a man way before his time!
Well, at least my time. Oh, did he
teach us the power of names! In
“Romeo and Juliet,” Juliet tries to
SHORE convince Romeo that they should
be together despite their feuding
families because in reality it is
NORTH his name that labels him as the
enemy, not anything that he has
done. Shakespeare continues this
16 brilliant thought again when Juliet
old “Jittery Jenny.” However, this is talking to herself on the balcony
applying the metaphor of a rose
to Romeo: “That which we call
a rose. By any other name would
still smell as sweet.”
Even if he had a different name
he would still be the man she
loves. The line is profound as it
suggests that names themselves
do not hold worth or meaning and
they simply act as labels to distin-guish
one thing or person from
another. Listen! My husband and
I didn’t speak passages of love to
each other from a balcony. Maybe
his Bronx fire escape. I loved my
husband to pieces even though
he was, gasp, a Galitzianer. As a
Litvak, I didn’t hold that against
him. Maybe my father did. I’m not
sure. So, you see those “G” and “L”
words were just labels because we
were happily married for 53 years.
I like to give names to things.
It helps me remember them bet-ter.
I’ve discovered I’m not alone.
People have named houses too.
How about Graceland, Monticello,
Hearst Castle and most famous
of all, The White House? Believe
me I’m no Bard(ess). Maybe more
like a Bad(.ss). Many years ago, I
had this beautiful, sleek black 6
cylinder car that I named, thanks
to author Anna Sewell, ”Black
Beauty” and whenever I got behind
the wheel with all the sputtering
power packed into that engine I
felt like I was riding a racehorse.
Well, maybe an older racehorse!
My foot touched the pedal and off
I sped as fast as the car would go.
So what if Aesop’s tortoise almost
always won the race with me? In
those days, to take care of your
car all you had to do was have
the Texaco attendant put gas in
the tank, put a little water in the
radiator, clean your windshield
and off you shlepped.
These days I have a 4 cylinder
silver SUV. It’s a little like me.
Sometimes a little slow but I get
where I need to. I like the silver
very much because I’m probably
totally silver gray under my Clairol
#10. I’ve named this vehicle “The
Silver Fox” (?) after me. Okay, I
acknowledge it’s probably too
much of a stretch, but I can live
with it even if you can’t. Today’s
cars are not that simple. They get
well check-ups and are hooked
up to monitors that check its
brain (computer chips) and heart
(engine.) The mechanics are now
called repair specialists and proba-bly
get as much training as medical
personnel. There’s also something
called driver’s assistance. It helps
you drive and park but cannot
help you find your car in a mall.
Real person or robot? Do I get to
choose who that is? Do I really
need an assistant with me? What
I sometimes find intrusive is that
I keep getting these messages in
different parts of my car. “I’m not
to change lanes” when the light
blinks yellow on my outside mir-rors.
Do you know once I almost
drove to Albany before I found
a time to change my lane safely?
When I’m at a red light and the
traffic starts to move, the dash
board informs me that “It’s time
to move.” What if I don’t want to?
Suppose I want to fix my hair or
lipstick and not ready to be seen
by the person driving along side
of me? Will the assistant report
me? To whom? With all these
distractions and extras that are
supposed to keep me safe, what
could these car manufacturers
have been thinking?
I had to replace my refriger-ator
recently. I really loved my