When I was a child, I always dreaded the first day of school. As
the teacher would approach the end of the roll-call list I’d wait
in nervous expectation, wondering whether my name would be
pronounced Christine Frognetti, Christine Dognetti or Christine
Tognighty.
When I was a child, I always dreaded the first day of school. As the teacher would approach the end of the roll-call list I’d wait in nervous expectation, wondering whether my name would be pronounced Christine Frognetti, Christine Dognetti or Christine Tognighty.
Throughout my life, my last name has been the reason for nicknames such as Toggie, Lil’ Tog and Togneezy. In this community, my last name has also given me an identity as a teacher’s kid, the daughter of John and Pam, and the guest columnist in this paper who writes like she talks – or so I’ve been told.
Although Tognetti, a name with Swiss-Italian roots, can be awkward to pronounce, I have always been proud of it. That’s why I have been married for six months and am just now changing my byline to Cuthbert, my new last name.
In a way, I think a name is a part of who you are. For 24 years, I’ve achieved, failed, and made memories and friendships that have helped build who I am. With one signature on a marriage certificate, it almost felt like that identity was wiped away.
That feeling became even more real when I decided to Google my name. When I typed in my maiden name, there were more than two pages of results containing articles and columns I had written in the past.
When I Googled my married name, the results showed a news article out of Scotland about a Christine Cuthbert who didn’t want her husband in jail, even though he tried to kill her. I went from being the only Christine Tognetti on the planet to being one of two Christine Cuthberts, and I’m not so sure about the person with whom I share this new name.
Another thing is that I think a person tends to take on the personality that his or her name exudes. I mean, have you ever met a prom king named Poindexter or a computer geek named Guy Lovely?
I’m changing my byline to Cuthbert now because for the past four months, I have been sharing my life with this community as a Tognetti, and also as someone who has lived here nearly her entire life. Had I not used my maiden name, many people in Gilroy would not have recognized me. They might have wondered how this person knew about the horse swings at Miller Park and the old Nob Hill that once stood on Westwood Drive. But because this will likely be my last column for any newspaper, I thought I would officially make the transition to using my married name.
As I head to Chicago and await the return of my husband, Mark, from Iraq in late spring, life will go on here in Gilroy without this column. Kids will grow up and move away, and some of them will move back.
Longtime residents will sit around and talk about the “old days,” when city limits ended at Miller Avenue and cherry orchards stretched as far as you could see. Beautiful landmarks – like the cedar trees that line Hecker Pass Highway and the gorgeous natural landscaping of Day Road – will slowly be destroyed as more homes and families come to town.
Gilroy will continue to grow, and as it fills up with more people and homes, it likely will lose some of its luster. But it never will lose its strong sense of community.
When I started writing this column, I said that sometimes Gilroy can seem like it’s closing in on you. But I can say from experience that when you’re in a time of need, Gilroy is the best place to be.
Thank you to everyone who has read this column. If I have brightened one person’s day with my choice of words, or opened one resident’s mind about our military or the beauty in this community, then I consider my mission accomplished.
Signing off for the first and last time,
Christine “Toggie” Cuthbert.
