It’s amazing, the power of just one little letter in the alphabet.
“As seen on X”, the internet news feed says, “the social media platform formerly known as Twitter.”
I hate to admit it, but I’ve become addicted to getting my breaking news from the internet feed that shows up on my phone. Welcome to the 21st century, I guess. But I’ve never twitted or tweeted or done anything remotely like that. I’ve never even tweaked, which is another of those words that tend to annoy me.
And X, as a name for a social media platform, ranks right up there as one of my ultimate annoyances.
X is already used a lot, for example, in mathematics — where X is the unknown quantity — and often gave me fits in high school algebra; in tic-tac-toe — the game that no one ever wins — and where everyone wants to be X; as a rating for certain types of movies and literature; and where it replaces, much to my chagrin, the Christ in Christmas.
But X as a social media platform name, really? ...
• • •
“Hey X,” Mr. VanderPoel yelled over as I sat on the bench holding my baseball glove. “Take first base.”
I shuddered inside as I slowly stood up, for I was the only kid on the bench not wearing a uniform, and I was terrified to run out onto the field. This was the Little League All-Star game, and I had come along just to show support for my classmates who were good enough ball players to have been selected to be on the team. I certainly wasn’t.
I made it to the base without fainting, and actually caught the first ball thrown my way as I stepped on the bag — runner out — but he stepped on my foot when I failed to move away in time.
And as I thought about my hurt foot and relished my astonishing accomplishment thus far, I ignored another runner advancing towards home while I stood dumbly holding the ball. Run scored, not exactly a stellar performance on my part.
“It’s OK, X,” Mr. VanderPoel yelled.
He was the first one that ever called me that, and I liked it ...
• • •
Having a last name that starts with X has been interesting to say the least, and over the seven-plus decades that I’ve worn it, it’s led to incidents of laughter, frustration, and downright annoyance, especially when people can’t seem to pronounce it correctly.
Most people say X-avier, as if the X is separate from the rest of the name, but my sister-in-law’s Kindergarten class called her Mrs. Eggsavier.
“There are no eggs in my name,” Patti reminded them.
With only two other letters following it in the alphabet, it meant that I was nearly always last in the line at school — “line up in alphabetical order they always said” – so unless my friend Jimmy Z happened to be in my class, I was always last.
Annoying — unless we were lining up to get a shot at the nurse’s office.
But at least everyone could pronounce Jimmy’s last name correctly …
• • •
“EX-avier Radio,” my friend said, as he looked at a picture of my father’s 1950 Ford panel truck with the name neatly painted on the side, “is that how you say it? EX-avier?”
“Xavier,” I said, thinking, OK, here we go again, “The X sounds like a Z. Not EX-avier or Eksavier or Eggsavier. Think of all the other words that start with X: xylophone, xerography, Xerox, Xanax, xiphoid. The X always sounds like a Z.”...
• • •
According to Mr. Webster, the dictionary guy, X is the 24th letter of the English alphabet. And in his big book, 2,230 pages long, words that start with the letter X occupy only two and one-third pages. Not many of them; no wonder people have such a hard time.
But on those pages, all of the English words that start with X are phonetically pronounced as if they started with a Z. Xylophone, xerography, Xerox, Xanax, xiphoid.
Chinese words that start with X are usually pronounced as if the X was either CH or SH; in Spanish, words that start with X may be replaced with a J and spoken as if it was an H; in other languages X words may be said as if they start with a S or a K; and in Greek, the X represents the letter Chi, from which the term Xmas was derived so many centuries ago. Whew.
The only exceptions are for words like X-ray or X-axis, where the X is actually spoken as a single letter — X. And of course if the X is in the middle or at the end of the word no one seems to have a problem with that. But the X at the beginning just seems to confuse people.
All of that information — in just over two pages – and this, too, on page 2,195:
Xavier (zA’ vE er) n.
1. St. Francis (Francisco Javier) (“The Apostle of the Indies”), 1506-52, Spanish Jesuit missionary, esp. in India and Japan.
2. a male given name; from an Arabic word meaning bright.
Who would have known …
• • •
“I’m sending you a little something,” my brother said as I answered my phone, “but, boy, it was a challenge to get it to you. I messed up when ordering online,” he went on, “and used the wrong shipping address. So I called Customer Service to try to have them change it.”
“I’ve made that same mistake,” I offered.
“But,” he continued, ”the Customer Service guy kept putting me on hold, and every time he’d come back on the line he’d call me Mr. EX-avier. And I finally lost it,” my brother admitted, “so I gave him a grammar lesson, and none too gently.”
Ahhh, the power of X ...
• • •
“Mr. X,” Linda always called my dad, the gentlest person she ever met, she says.
But she just calls me X, like Mr. VanderPoel did so many years ago. And I like it.
She was talking to a friend a while ago, she said, someone she hadn’t seen in years, and when she mentioned me, she called me X.
“Oh my God,” her friend exclaimed, “when did you two break up? You’ve been together forever.”
Amazing, the power of X.
I might be single and not even know it.
Ovid native Gary B. Xavier has written over 200 “Life Lines” columns since his first one was published in the Finger Lakes Times in 2002, several of which have been in the “Chicken Soup for the Soul” book series. He can be reached at gary_xavier@yahoo.com or P.O. Box 365, Ovid, NY 14521.
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