S aint John of the Cross
Sonny's surname was De Le Cruz. That is to say, his "official" last name, as it appeared in the local Puerto Rican Civil Registry. About twenty or more years ago (the exact time remained a mystery to all but the deceased), Papi was told that someone in the family had the bright idea of combining the three syllables of their family's surname into one name, resulting in a completely "new" surname, that of Delacruz. To Sonny, it sounded reasonable, the proper thing to do. Too many names to remember, you know? And too many spaces to worry about.
Good thing, too. A name with so many spaces can take up a lot of room on job applications and forms for school, Sonny argued; and all that paperwork one had to fill out for taxes and such. Of course, Sonny was too young at the time to have known anything about this, but that's how it was. And that's how it was going to be.
What did all this mean for Sonny personally? And what was the difference between De La Cruz and Delacruz? They were still the same family, still the same people, the same bodies, the same minds and faces. Materially for them, nothing had changed. The same old arguments abounded, no matter who was doing the arguing. And to tell you the truth, it made no difference at all what the spelling of their surnames were. Not to Sonny, at any rate. The same name, the same person, only less space. The result: Time saved.
The one thing he could not vouch for was his first name: Santiago. God, how he hated that name! And how he wished it were something else, something simpler, something easier maybe on American ears. Everywhere he studied or worked, and nearly everyone he talked to, all wanted to know how to spell it, or what it's origin was.
"S-A-N-T-I-A-G-O. San-tee-a-go. Santiago. You got that?"
He always added that last part. Sonny wanted to let people know it annoyed the hell out of him to have to accommodate these ignorant fools who had never heard of his or his family's name.
"Christ Jesus! Talk about too many syllables!"
It was always a mouthful, of that Sonny was certain - no matter how many times he spelled it out for folks. "Why couldn't my parents have named me something else? What's wrong with Sonny? Sonny Cruz? That sounds way better, right? Much better! Yeah! Strong, short, no spelling involved, no need for stupid explanations. A real American-sounding name. Straight up, to the point. No fancy twists, no freaking turns. 'Hi, there. Sonny Cruz. Nice to meet you.'"
What possessed his parents to have burdened him with such a miserable moniker as Santiago? When he was younger, Sonny had finally gotten up the nerve to inquire about it. He didn't dare go to Papi. No way, José! Papi would only complicate matters. He decided instead to go straight to Mami. She would know. Yeah, Mami! The most logical person in the whole world to ask. Papi, as head of the household, would need to get her permission to name one of their kids. Actually, in point of fact, it was the women elders in their family, by local tradition, who were the ones responsible for approving a family member's name. From as far back as Sonny could remember, that was how it was. And that's how it would be.
On this day, Sonny finally got up the courage to ask her.
"Mami, why did you name me Santiago?" Surprised yet pleased by her son's question, Mami gave her oldest born a mile-wide grin.
"Ah, well, if you must know, Santiago is a very old and respected name," Mami responded to him in Spanish. "It comes from Saint James, chico. Saint James or Santiago de Compostela. That goes with our family's last name, De La Cruz."
Sonny was nothing if not confused. He wasn't prepared for such an elaborate response as this. "How do you mean," he asked blankly, "our family's last name?"
"It's that Santiago is a very traditional way of saying Saint James, the brother of Saint John the Apostle, the one in the Bible. The disciple of Jesucristo, Nuestro Señor." Mami crossed herself as she spoke these words. Sonny scratched his head in wonder. Or was it confusion? Knowing Sonny, probably both.
"What's wrong with you calling me James?" he countered. "Or Juan, like my brother Juanito? You call him Juanito, why not me? I like Juan. Can you call me Juan?"
At that, Mami grew sullen. She listened to his childish prattle, calmly at first. She had to remind herself that he was still so young, so "wet behind the ears," whatever that meant. Of course, taking his brother Juan's name made perfect sense to him, but would not win any arguments with the family's elders - in particular, las abuelas. Mami knew her eldest son well, a bright and playful boy but nowhere near his younger brother's intelligence. Sonny was of a curious but fairly argumentative nature, too much like her own personality. After giving what Sonny had asked some thought, Mami continued.
"Your brother's name fits in with the rest of our family's name, 'De La Cruz,' which means 'Of the Cross.' Think about that, hijo. Juanito De La Cruz is 'Little John of the Cross.' "
"Little John of the Cross? Is John the one who was... cru-ci-fied? You know, the one on the cross, the one we have Christmas for? I thought that was Baby Jesus. Wasn't that Baby Jesus?"
"You're confusing things, Santiago. I wasn't talking about Baby Jesus. This is Saint John of the Cross. He was a Catholic priest, a... a Doctor of the Church. Many, many years ago, long before you were born, before I was born, before any of us were born. John lived in España, the mother country of our ancestors. John was a very wise and learned man, a scholar and a very spiritual being..."
"Spiritual? Oh, you mean, like the Holy Spirit, like the soul?"
"Si, mijo. San Juan De La Cruz. Like San Juan, the capital city of Puerto Rico, the old capital, the symbol of who we are."
"San Juan, that's the same as Saint John, right? Of the Bible?"
"No, mijo. Saint John of the Bible, that's another Saint John. This Saint John was a priest. The one from the Bible was Jesus' disciple. Two different people, okay? But the same name."
"Oh, but what about Santiago? Why that name?"
Exasperated, Mami went on to explain it all again. But the more she explained, the more confused Santiago became. Mami finally threw up her hands and gave up, especially after she insisted that Santiago was a combination of two names, Saint and James. And that Iago, the second half of "Santiago," was an ancient way of spelling James. She claimed that Iago, James and Santiago were all the same, which Sonny likened to the Holy Trinity: "I get it! Three persons in one!" Make sense? Mami grew more and more irritated at his obstinacy.
"No, no, not exactly, mijo. Just one person, but three names. It's not the same, it's different."
"Oh, okay." Sonny still wasn't convinced. He felt there was more to this name business than what Mami was telling him. And why did she get so angry and flustered every time he asked her a question? Nevertheless, Sonny kissed Mami on her cheek and went off to bed.
But little Sonny couldn't sleep. His thoughts lingered over their earlier conversation, what Mami had expressed to him about Iago, James, Juan, John, and Jesus. It was all so damned confusing. Obviously, clarity was not one of his mother's strong points.
"Too many 'J's," Sonny whispered to himself. Saint James, then Iago, shortened to Santiago. John became Juan, then Juan of the Cross became De La Cruz, which got shortened to Delacruz. That part overwhelmed him. Still, he reflected for more than an hour. "I got to look this up one day," Sonny thought to myself. "Maybe, when I get older, I can figure it all out. It's much too simple an answer, what Mami said. It doesn't make any sense..." Exhausted, Santiago finally closed his eyes and fell asleep.
For many years, Sonny took what Mami had told him about his and Juanito's names as gospel. All boys do. They believe what their mothers tell them about where their origins were. Sonny went on to explain, to anybody who was willing to listen (but mostly to himself), the source of his name. Many more years would pass before Sonny began to do his own research into the matter.
Copyright © 2023 by Josmar F. Lopes
