NOTE: I’ve been nostalgic lately, so this is the first of what I expect to be several family and “place of origin”- related posts.
Just like I do every Sunday, I called my dad. And he told me a very interesting piece of news.
Now, to understand this bit of information I’m going to share, you need to know that my dad HATES, ULTRA-HATES my mother and her side of the family. He thinks they’re pretentious, smug, etc. I’ve learned to live with it, and don’t make a big deal of it. It’s easier. Sometimes, I even agree.
Anyways, so we’re talking, and he tells me “My girlfriend found you online. Apparently you are in some long genealogical tree your mother’s side has built.” This was news to me, so the first thing I did when I came home was Google it. I eventually found it, and sure enough. One of my relatives has build a huge family tree with everyone and their mother -literally- in it.
When I did find myself (using the “find” option of Firefox, that’s how big the thing was) I started to laugh. My name is listed in the wrong way, so I don’t share the last name that technically qualifies me to be on the list. Just looking at last names, I’m not related to anyone at all.
Let me explain. For those who may not know this, it’s custom in the Spanish-speaking culture to take your father and your mother’s last names. In that order. So if Juan Pérez marries Susana Gómez, their daughter would be Ana Pérez Gómez. This causes a butt load of confusion in the US, where many people see this and assume Gómez is the last name, because it is the last name in the name, when really the last name is Pérez. Make sense? I hope so.
Returning to the story, my name in the family tree is wrong. To preserve my anonymity, let’s say that my name is that of the example above. My full name in the website should read: Ana Pérez Gómez, Gómez being my mother’s family’s name and the whole reason I would be on the list. But no, I’m listed as Ana Pérez Gutiérrez. What’s hilarious about this is that not only does my name not match and therefore makes me not belong, but that Gutiérrez is my dad’s mom’s last name. I knew my dad would get a kick out of it, and even though I knew it was wrong to feed his anger, I called him to tell him: “Daddy! I’m listed as Pérez Gutiérrez, just like you!” His response? “Good. At least on paper we’ve cleaned you up, taking you away from them.“
Leaving aside my dad’s bitter comment (which I’ll get to in a minute), the whole family tree thing got me thinking. The last time I had seen all those names was when mom sent me a calendar with everyone’s b-days and wedding anniversaries. Today, looking at the list, I thought the same thing as I thought back then when she sent me that calendar: a) Who the hell has time to do this? b) I have no idea who half of these people are, and c) Of those I know, I hardly have anything in common with. Yes, we share a last name, but other than that, sharing a name with them doesn’t mean a whole lot for me.
Don’t get me wrong. Having such a huge family (it is HUGE, great-grandpa had 8 children, who gave him 52 grandchildren, who themselves had children….) was fun in many ways, and in many more ways I love it. We had (I think we still do) an annual get-together where we hanged out and ate b-bque. We also run into each other all the time, everywhere, which led my friends to tease me with “you are related to everyone!”. In such a small society as is the one in the place my mom and I are from, I was, kinda related to everyone.
I have fond memories of those get-togethers. I like them. Still, other than the old aunts who go to them and the two once-removed cousins I get along with, the people in that tree and in those parties are, for the most part, strangers to me. And when people in the family make such a big deal about our last name and send out a calendar full of names and dates for birthdays of people I don’t know, I want to scream.
What is a last name other than an identifier when you have no sense of “family”? Even my dad’s comment was absurd to me. Just like sharing the last name alone doesn’t make me feel attached to the people I don’t know, I find it strange that not having it makes my dad feel I am less attached to the family he hates.
I’m not even sure why I am writing this post, why it is that this whole family last name thing is bothering me. There’s just something about being listed in such an impersonal (and half-mistaken) way on that list that bothers me. Or maybe it’s just that seeing my name in the list brought back lots of feelings I have about my family and the time when I was growing up. I don’t know. I just know I had to write about it.
