IDENTITY

I have many names, which matches my many cloaked identities. There’s my Korean name-Kim Eun Ja, Kim being my last name since the sur name comes first-in Korea.

Whenever I’d walk around the block in my suburban, lily white neighborhood in the armpit of New Jersey, there was always that elderly neighbor who would wave all friendly one minute. And then the next he’d scream from his driveway that he was hosing down as a way of cleaning instead of sweeping. He’d scream, “What’s your name again?”

I’d give a tight smile, “Lynne.”

“Kim?”

“No—LYNNE.”

“Have a nice day, Kim!” They’d wave goodbye.

These neighbors were always right. My Korean last name was truly Kim. But because of my face-oriental, foreign, immigrant-of course my real name had to be Kim.

My American name, my mother gave me the minute I was adopted at almost the age of three and she did a bounty towel identity wipe, was Lynne Tricia Noelle Connor. She spelled Lynne with 2 N’s and anchored it with an E. She did this to match her unusual, one-of-a-kind name Vianne. A mashup of her Aunt Viola and her mom’s best friend named Anne. My first middle name Tricia was after my godmother Patricia, who everyone called Aunt Pat. My second middle name is Noelle because I flew from South Korea to the Philly airport at the beginning of December. My mom liked to say I was the best Christmas present she could ask for. And my last name Connor is my grandfather’s last name. Because my mom never married.

At my Aunt Dee’s funeral, Aunt Pat moaned to me, rocking slightly, “I am the last Connor.”

And I wanted to scream, “No, I’m the last Connor. When you die, I will be the last Connor!”