And I have the normal name in my family

I’m changing my name.

Or rather, I’m having it changed for me by a country of people oddly unable to pronounce the name “Erin.”

Instead, I get called Eirin—or what is actually the German equivalent of my middle name, Irene. A charming coincidence. If nothing else, it’s giving me a new appreciation for a middle name I’ve always found a little old-fashioned and boring.

I really don’t understand the why of it, though. “Er.” “In.” These are morphemes that they have in German. In fact, one of my teachers’ boyfriends is named Erwin. Drop the W, and you have me (which is also, oddly, something that former President George Bush can say re: his son…probably with similar bafflement)—what’s the problem here?

Eirin. Aye-reen. My only even vaguely convincing theory is that they’re trying to make my quintessentially Irish first name match with my stereotypically German last name. A tidy attempt from a tidy people, but not really going to happen, kids—the only way those two parts of my heritage jive is their exceeding helpfulness in avoiding hangovers and in wreaking havoc in perfectly lovely corners of the world.

No matter how often I pronounce my name, how carefully I enunciate when I introduce myself, I still get called Eirin. I can write it down, clearly demonstrating that there’s only one I, and still they persist. It’s almost like the entire country is trying to correct my pronunciation. Actually, come to think of it…that’s probably not a bad assumption. The Germans did the same thing when I lived there, and lord knows they think they’re always right.