The Evolution of My Name


Icelandic names can be a pain to those who have been tagged with one. Why? They are quite unpronounceable by anyone but an Icelander. My given name is no different. And, yes, it’s Icelandic.

My name is Gunnlaug. It comes from the Icelandic Sagas and means "washer of wounds." Considering that I blanch at the sight of blood, not the right choice. But, I wasn’t the one who chose it. My dad, a staunch Icelander to his last day, did.

The sounds to pronounce it properly don’t really exist in English, so to explain the "how" I have to resort to other languages – French and Greek. Mostly. Go figure. "Gunn" as in Guh-nn. Not as in "Peter Gunn" or "gun." "Lau" as in the French word for eye "oeuil" or similar to "uy" as in "uy-uy-UY." Just think of someone exclaiming "oy-oy-OY" and you are getting closer. That last "g" is the tricky one. There is that Greek, the soft, slightly guttural sound of the letter "gamma." Now, take a deep breath and repeat after me … Guhnn-l-uy-gh. Now forget it. I don’t use that name. Now you know why.

When I was very young and learning to talk, I called myself Goj (pronounced "goy") and answered to nothing else. That, when I moved to Canada, was spelled "G-O-Y" or it would have been pronounced as Godj. I hated that.

Goy stayed with me until a few months after I entered college. One day, sitting in a small coffee shop, a group of friends and I were discussing this name. "Goy," in the Jewish culture, means "non-Jew." We decided there were two alternatives: Gay and Joy, both quite legitimate names back then (early 60s), and both had some relationship to being a happy person. Described me, we all decided. So, we drew straws. Gay was the winner.

Gay remained a good friend for a few years, after which I added an "e" – the meaning of just plain "Gay" had changed and no longer described who I felt I was. Besides, my maiden name was Löve, pronounced Love as in Romance in English (but Luh-veh in Europe, and meaning LION). Still a happy animal. The addition of that "e" didn’t change the pronunciation, just the "look and feel" of the name, to loosely use a marketing term.

Gaye was my constant companion for close to twenty years, until that day. A new member of our staff, in a branch of a Korean company, had just arrived and we were all being introduced. My name was next. The man, almost straight from the plane – he’d arrived the evening before – said, giggling, "That is not a good name for a nice woman."

I added an "L" between the Y and the E, and became GAYLE. And that, close to twenty years later, is still my name, one I am comfortable with.

Of course, nothing is perfect. I don’t have a middle name, and I have always wanted one… still can’t decide on one, after all these years.