My name is Rita De Silva. Most TGI readers, or anyone who has had anything to do with The Garden Island within the last 35 years or so knows that, of course. But I have a deep, dark secret very
My name is Rita De Silva.
Most TGI readers, or anyone who has had anything to do with The Garden Island within the last 35 years or so knows that, of course. But I have a deep, dark secret very few people do know about: Until I was 8 years old, my name was “Lottie-Ann.”
(And I can’t believe I’m telling you this).
I was born in what was then the sleepy plantation town of Paia on Maui’s north shore. Today, it is known as the Windsurf Capitol of the World.
When I was 3 years old, we moved to Honolulu where my parents rented a small older home on Miller Street from “Grampa” Lemes, one of several he owned there. Our house sat between two of them, One of his daughters, (Sadie) lived in the one above us on the “hilly” street. Grampa lived with his other daughter, Elsie, and her family in the one below. Everyone on both sides of the street called me “Lottie-Ann.”
Our family moved to Kauai when I was 8. It was only after I was enrolled in St. Catherine’s School that I started being called Rita (my legal first name.)
It took me quite a while to get used to the “new” name but eventually I did and became comfortable with it. Eventually, I even became glad my “old” name was no longer being used and stopped using it or thinking of it entirely myself. It was as if it never existed.
The years went by. Wayne and I met, became friends and more, and got married; and my parents moved back to Honolulu,
Wayne never knew about “Lottie-Ann” until we took a trip we to visit my parents on Oahu and stopped in at my old neighborhood on Miller Street And that’s when it happened.
“Oh, Lottie-Ann, I’m so happy to see you,” my Aunty Elsie greeted me warmly.
Puzzled, Wayne looked around for “Lottie-Ann.” Eventually, the light bulb went on and he figured it out and to his credit, didn’t say a word until we left and then the teasing began and didn’t stop for years.
Whenever he wanted to “get my goat,” he just called me “Lottie-Ann” and sat back and waited. And it never took long, I always took the bait.
When my boys grew up it became a family joke. “Want to get Mom mad? Just say “Lottie-Ann.” You don’t even need to call her that, just say it.” And they did.
Then Wayne had the bright idea to name one of our boats “Lottie-Ann.” It was a perfect name, he said, but I objected strenuously, and for a short while, we compromised.
I told him I would ask my aunt, Sarah Kailikea, (a well-respected kupuna who happened to be married to my father’s brother, Melvin,) to give us a nice Hawaiian name. Wayne still wasn’t happy but he agreed.
Aunty Sarah picked a wonderful name.
“I give this boat the name, “Maika’i, which means “good,” she said, adding that it would be a blessing whenever anyone said it: good ocean, good fishing, good fortune.
It sounded perfect. And Maika’i it became for a brief while.
But everyone immediately mispronounced the name that had been so carefully chosen.
Instead of “Maika’i” (myKAee) they called it “makai” (MYky) which meant toward the ocean, which might have been all right except it wasn’t the name the boat had been given.
Things started to go very wrong. Our boat had a run of bad luck: Very poor fishing, minor accidents, major incidents. Something was obviously not right.
I went back to Aunty Sarah and told her what was happening.
She told me two things were going on. First, of course, the mispronounced name was a major problem. But secondly, she said, was Wayne’s and my disagreement over the name. She gave me permission to remove the name she had given (this is very important) and give the boat my name, “Lottie-Ann.”
And so we did and Wayne was happy and everything turned around almost instantly. No more accidents, wonderful fishing, We kept the name until we sold the boat.
Over the years, Wayne has called me many different names. In school, he called me by my nicknames, “Reet” or “Ritz” or his pet nickname for me, “Smiley,” (I always smiled when he was near.”)
When we were married, it was “Honey” or “Hon” until our boys got married and there were too many “Honeys” around and I went back to being Rita.
My grandkids call me Grandma, (never Granny. That was my mom’s special name) and my favorite of all: “Grams.”
I have come to terms with “Lottie-Ann” today. I was named after my grandmother, Lottie Lonohiwa Johnson, whom I adored. Having her name was an honor I realized in time.
But still, in closing, I will paraphrase Johnny Cash’s “Boy Named “Sue,” and tell you that you can call me “Reet” or “Ritz” or “Bill” or “George,” anything but “Lottie-Ann.” Aloha with a smile.
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Rita De Silva is former editor of The Garden Island and a Kapaa resident.
