BESSIRE-You say that how?

The school bell had rung.  It was a new school year in a brand new junior high school. I found myself sitting in my homeroom class, nervous and excited and waiting for 8^th grade to begin.  This young lady meticulously groomed with her very short haircut and brand new homemade red dress (YES, a dress!), adjusted her black-rimmed glasses and wondered, “How did I get a shop class as my home room? It doesn’t go with my outfit!”

It wasn’t long before the intercom clicked on and in blazing clarity, a female voice announced, “Will Stephanie Brazzier (BESSIRE) please come to the office.”  GREAT!  Can you say that a little louder?  Is there any other way you can humiliate a blossoming teenager more on the first day of 8^th grade? 

I exited the classroom as quickly as I could to avoid the pain of the low-key snickers turning into a boisterous chorus of belly-deep laughter—school-wide! As it turned out, I ended up in a much more fitting homeroom, so I guess that was the “joy” in all this misery.

I’m sure there were miss pronunciations throughout my grade school years, but the junior high incident is the most memorable.  It provided ample warning to prepare for those misguided souls in the future who might do me in again. “BAY-SEER--that is how you say it!” I repeated to announcers in the realms of talent shows, church activities, beauty pageants, and graduation.

I’m not sure of the origins of the name. Bessire HAS to be beautifully pronounced in French. I only know that my French speaking ancestor from Switzerland  brought it with him to America.  Did Eugene Bessire worry about miss pronunciations on his long, churning ride over the Atlantic? When he first stepped on the shores of America, did he know any English?  Could he even correct their interpretation of how they said or spelled his name?  Was the prize of being here so wonderful that he really didn’t care? 

Even though the name Bessire has carried its anxious moments, I am so proud of it.  Because of its uniqueness, I know when I discover it in the newspaper, old books, census records, and in cemeteries—spelled just like I spell it—that we have to be related!  I don’t get too ruffled anymore when I see it as Basire, Bassier, Bessier, Befsire (the way old hand writing appears for a double s),  or any other way.  I just smile and know the problems the name presents to the listeners, recorders, and pronouncers; they did the best they could.  I will accept all the associated embarrassments of BESSIRE any day in trade for the alternative—let’s say, the tedious search of those looking for an ancestor named JOHN SMITH!