Ellen DeGeneres, Portia de Rossi, and Me

August 10, 2010

[The following post serves no earthly purpose other than allowing me a self-indulgent airing of events from my life. I might as well just blog my shopping list for what it matters to anyone else.]

I was surprised to read recently that Portia de Rossi has legally taken on Ellen’s last name to become Portia DeGeneres. While I understand the motivation behind taking on your spouse’s last name for the sake of love, shared identity, and all that, what is totally beyond me is giving up a luxurious sounding last name like “de Rossi” for a clunky one like “DeGeneres.” Yes. I’m just that superficial.

Personally, I lean toward defaulting to a hyphen but now that I think about it, there’s just no good way to hyphenate their last names.
De Rossi – DeGeneres.
DeGeneres – De Rossi.
It’s a hot mess either way. Okay, I reverse my original position. Good decision Ladies.

During one of those summers of my childhood when I grudgingly spent more Saturdays attending stuffy church weddings than I did playing outside and splitting root beer popsicles with Joey, my next door neighbor, I realized that every bride was required to trade in her last name for the last name of the groom. I found this whole tradition stupid and was determined that when I got married there was no way I would ever give up Cadonau, the last name of my grandparents and parents, a name that held all my family history, my heritage, and an important part of my identity. I love my last name. I love being a Cadonau. And yes, I realize now that my objection was weakened in that my grandmother and mother had both given up their family names to take on the Cadonau name. Did I mention I was young at the time and my train of thought often ended before the caboose?

At some point along the way I told my Mom of my intention to never give up our family name and in a perfectly mom-inspired moment she said, “When you get married you’ll love your husband so much that you’ll want to share his name.” Hey! Now that I think about it, could my aversion to giving up my last name possibly be what made me gay? I wonder if the Family Research Council has ever considered this as a first sign of homosexual tendencies in young women. Makes as much sense as some of their other theories.

As it happened D had the very same feelings about giving up her last name. She loves her last name because she loves her family history and heritage as much as I do mine and so I don’t ever remember us considering any option other than going with a sweet little hyphen linking the two together. We never took the letters of our last names and tried to mix them into some new amalgam because we had way too many vowels to contend with and while some couples create a completely original last name I just couldn’t see myself as Anita PixieDust or Anita RedMoonRising. Oh come on. If you’ve ever spent anytime around lesbians in Berkeley you’d know how painfully close to reality those names are. There’s every chance that right now some Bay area lesbian couple is saying, “Hey! PixieDust…that works!” And to the two of you, you’re welcome. I aims to please.

So we hyphenated. My last name first. Her last name last. And the reason for settling on that order? Is it because I’m the tool-belt lesbian in our relationship? Well. Yes. And while that explains why there are 14 holes behind every framed picture hanging in our living room, it doesn’t explain the order of our last name which was determined by an evening of saying Cadonau-Huseby, Huseby-Cadonau out loud until we mutually agreed that Cadonau-Huseby sounded better to the ear. Score! I win!

Just kidding. A little bit anyway.

So if you’ve never legally changed your name there’s a whole process you have to go and if memory serves me correctly (which it seldom does) it involves a mess of legal forms, a repeating announcement of a name change request placed in the local paper for a month, and then a formal appearance before a Superior Court Judge who upon determining the name change isn’t motivated by some nefarious purpose such as alluding the Feds, stamps the forms and grants your request.

I have a couple clear and wonderful memories from that day back in November 2002 at the Alameda Superior Court House. The first is waiting downstairs in the lobby until we were called to appear before da Judge. Both D and I were fairly giddy that day and with good cause. We already knew from the vows we made each other on our wedding day a few months earlier that we would be together until death do us part, but in taking on each other’s name it felt like we were taking one more step in sealing our commitment as well as knowing that from that day forward whenever we signed or spoke our last name it would be making a public proclamation that we were a committed couple. No longer would anyone mistake us as friends, room mates or girlfriends. And so we were all a’twitter (which predates tweeting for those of you too young to spice your vocabulary with expressions from ancient times) sitting on a bench off in a corner of a dark wood-paneled lobby waiting to see the Judge, and as is more often than not the case we were looking like two women ridiculously in love with one another. Sitting side by side holding hands, talking in whispers and giving each other warm goopy love eyes. (Reading that just now either elicited a gag or an Awwwwww from you depending on your tolerance for goopiness.) Let me clarify for the record that we’re usually a little more reserved in public displays of affection but this was a special day and besides that, the lobby was empty except for one woman who happened to walk by us at some point and smile in our direction.

The other memory I have is entering the court room along with a dozen other people who had filed similar name change requests. We sat for a few minutes in the front two rows of the otherwise empty court room until we were directed by the bailiff to stand as the Judge entered. We stood and as a big wooden door swung open in the front of the court room the woman who had passed us by earlier in the lobby entered wearing the long black flowing robe of the Judge.

D and I sat down again with the others and waited while one after the other were called to stand before the Judge and each time, she would ask them a series of questions concerning their reasons for changing their name. “Are you changing your name to avoid any standing charge of criminal action? Are you currently involved in any legal litigation under your existing name? Are you a registered sex offender? Is there any other information I should be made aware of pertinent to your request for a legal name change?” After receiving a volley of “No. No. No. No.” from each applicant the judge would sign a document, hand it to the applicant and so order that their name change had been granted.

Though we were as giddy as we’d been down in the lobby a strange solemnity fell over us as we stood before the Judge. It was like being a fourth grader who having done nothing wrong still finds their palms growing clammy and sweaty when called to the principal’s office. So there we were, standing side by side with adolescent sweaty palms when the Judge looked toward us and said through a smile, “Having stumbled upon the two of you downstairs it’s quite apparent why you’re appearing before the court today requesting that your last names be changed. Your request is hereby granted. Congratulations to the two of you and best wishes for your future!”

So while exchanging de Rossi for DeGeneres is a little like exchanging a wagyu steak dinner for a Spam sandwich on white bread, I get it. Congratuations Ellen and Portia DeGeneres.

Oh, and before I forget….

___ Fuji apples
___ Sliced turkey breast
___ Sweet potatoes
___ Milk
___ 60-watt lightbulb

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Posted in News and Events, Storytelling