About That Name
Do not be afraid of the last name. Say it like this: sin-uh-DEE-nus. Try it, it's easy.
Jean tells a true story about that last name...
A deeply earnest child, I am late in developing a sense of sarcasm. I’m in first grade and I go to my father and ask him for the English translation of our last name. I need to know for school. I stand eye level with his workbench in the basement, ask the question and watch my father do something he rarely does – give me his full and complete attention to address this critical and excellent question!
He says, "Why yes, Jean, there are two possible translations of our last name. The first, of course, is ‘member of the church council,’ from the Greek root word ‘synod.’ And the second is ‘one who screams loudly while walking on a road.’"
Again, let me say I am a humorless child. So I believe him (and continue to, well into my 30s). Plus, that second definition just makes so much more sense to my six-year old brain.
Flash forward. It’s the mid-80s. I wake up in Los Angeles and wonder why the hell I’m here. Unemployed and profoundly unmotivated, am thrilled to discover the L.A. Times want ads are made for people just like me! There it is, smack dab on the front page of ads: "Joker’s Wild Game Show Contestants Wanted," and I look no more, for I’m too busy conjuring visions of my certain winnings -- the all-expenses paid trip around the world, the new car, the mounds of cash that will make gainful employment completely irrelevant for years to come.
The next day I join other hopefuls in the corporate offices for the test of general knowledge, which is pretty easy to pass. I sail through the initial personal interview, but so does anyone who can smile and nod. They really start to separate the wheat form the chaff with the mock game, and boy, do I shine here. I’m enthusiastic! I understand the rules! I win the mock game!!
And I clinch the deal in the last step – the in-depth interview. The producers hand me an ace. They actually ask: what’s your last name mean?? Ah, bless them! I deliver my line like a seasoned comic: One Who Screams Loudly While Walking On A Road. They guffaw, they shake my hand and I get the nod. I’m IN, baby! And I go buy a ridiculously short red dress for the taping.
The big day comes, and I am way, WAY too confident. You know the kid you went to school with who’s just a wee too sure she already knows the questions on (and answers to) the final exam? That's me – the kid you want to clock. Don’t worry, though, I get my karmic comeuppance.
There we are, on the set, under the lights, and look – it’s a live studio audience! Well, barely live. Median age is, I’m guessing, 73, based on the reflection of the lights off all that white hair. These gals have been sitting in those uncomfortable -- but free! -- seats for two hours already as other episodes have been taped, and their discomfort is audible. I Hoover-up their discernable and specific kind of energy -- and I choke. How, you ask?
Jack Berry welcomes me and asks me That Question About My Name. What name? I do not remember my name. Wait—uh—there it is, I know it now, I spit it out, but my… timing… is… ….off. I am really really not funny. Jack Berry doesn’t think so, the old ladies certainly don’t think so, and I don’t think so either.
I panic. I pull the lever and--oh no!!—I get the Mystery Category which turns out to be—aaaack!—Agriculture.
Now, my parents shelled out some serious coin to send me to the College Of My Choice, but I’m about to lose to a McDonald’s manager.
The question, forever branded on my brain, is: "What grass feeds two-thirds of the world’s population on a daily basis?" I say wheat. But NO!! It’s RICE, people, and my opponent’s course of study at McD U. has clearly taught him well. He gets it right. I gotta give the guy props, though, cause he knows the answer to the next question (answer: Helen Gurley Brown) which puts him over the top. So he gets the thousand bucks, the trip to New Orleans and the chance to come back for more fabulous prizes in the next round.
And I get $25 worth of Sue Bee Honey and a Rath Blackhawk ham.
I am told that these shows are in re-run on The Game Show Network. Because I live in fear of being found out through syndication, I come clean with you now.
