Tuesday, July 24, 2018

What's in a name?

Recently it was pointed out to me that using the term "gypsy" in my blog title would be considered insensitive and/or insulting. I'm not sure in what manner but perhaps because it would seem I am claiming an ethnicity or community to which I don't belong.

Part of the reason I chose the word is because I travel easily between communities and have all my life. Three states; six or seven houses by the time I was nine years old. Moving between financial classes and northern to southern to northern hospitality and practices. From church-going to not going to seeing Father Kinsella at the dinner table. From a bungalow-cottage sharing a single bedroom with my two brothers to spacious rancher to city rowhouse. From winter blizzards to palm trees at Christmas and back to northern chill.

So before I'd hit the first decade, I'd developed chameleon skills of adaptability so as to not draw unwelcome attention to myself as the new kid. My speaking voice still adopts the accent of my geography/companions. Instinctively I would mirror the postures and gestures of those in the room; later I would do it deliberately hoping be accepted at best or go undetected at least.

But none of that seems particularly linked to the term "gypsy." Perhaps the word vagabond is a better fit. But then I dressed as a gypsy for a Halloween party and started telling some guests their fortunes, telling them things about themselves I couldn't have known. And more than a few times, I was right.

I guess the real reason was to imply that I acclimate quickly, learn new skills like a speed demon, can "fake til I make it," and have experience in a variety of fields.

I'm open to suggestions for a better title, but for now, I'll leave it as it stands.