My Name

It's only taken me 50 years or so to come to terms with it. When someone sees it, they don't know how to pronounce it, and when someone hears it, they don't know how to spell it. When I'm asked how it's pronounced, the smartass in me often is tempted to say "just the way it sounds." and occasionally, I've yielded to that dark side of my personality and actually done so.

For the record it's pronounced Stié-fee. At least on the west coast. Back in Worchester, Massachusetts, it's "Stíff-ee." I owe my grandfather a debt of gratitude for letting the pronunciation evolve when he moved to California around 1917 or so. In Sweden, where the family's roots are, I understand it's "Steef." Teriffic! My name caused me enough grief on the playground as it was!

I've googled my name a number of times. I've discovered that there is a well-known jazz saxophone player in Canada named Roy Styffe and a bassist in the Olso Philharmonic with the name of Dan Styffe. I have no idea how either pronounces it. 

And it is quite possible that I'm related to the two characters which appear on this vintage postcard which I own. On a trip through Nevada in the 1930s, my grandfather stopped at their motel/gas station in Lovelock and it was determined that they had simply kept the Swedish pronunciation and our branch of the family had kept the spelling and let the phonetics fall where they may.

When I was a kid, I envied the Wilsons, Carters, Smiths and anyone else with a more generic name. I dreaded the first day of school, when I'd hear it mangled by the teacher. Now, I appreciate its uniqueness and I've made my peace with it.

I'm just glad I didn't grow up in Lovelock, Nevada!