Graham Greene knew how to spell it.(AP Photo/Jacques Langevin
It happened again Sunday.
Wayne Greene became Wayne Green.
I’ve dealt with it all my life.
School registrars, utility companies, authors of letters to the editor all want to ignore my heritage and short me my final e.
It's Greene. G-R-E-E-N-E. Three Es. Not all together.
This is the fate of those cursed by their forefathers with redundant Es: constante misspellingse.
The most recent occasion came at the end of
my column on page 6 of Sunday’s Opinion section.
It would appear that even I can't spell my name.
Actually, a peculiar series of events involving some late design changes to the page, resulted in someone retyping the material at the end of my column.
And thus was lost an e. Twice.
No one ever wants to short my Wayne its silent e, but everyone wants to make the Greene families merge with the Greens, who seem like perfect nice people. They're just not my people.
Many times I’ve considered shucking the extra letter.
In fact, when receptionists and switchboard operators ask me to repeat my name on the telephone, I say “I’m Wayne Greene, like the color.”
Sometimes it's better to be understood than to be right.
If I were to say “Wayne Greene as in Graham Greene,” I don’t think I’d get very far.
A legal name change would be expensive and difficult.
Instead of changing my name, couldn’t I just be entrepreneurial and offer the extra letter for sale?
Who would buy it, you ask.
There must be some Smith somewhere looking for the more genteel sound of Smithe.
How about someone from the Ng family? Surely they would like to buy a vowel.
What's the going rate for redundant Es?
I know where to test the market: eBay, of course.
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