Name Navigation

Nina Simone is singing its a new dawn and a new day. On the cusp of a new year, I'm also listening to Nina the Navigon. The neutral, ageless business voice of a dashboard mounted GPS system has been directing our recent travels. My brother decided to name this Christmas gift. Even while trying to generate a clever name to add to our collective brainstorm, I recoiled. Even after meeting lovely and amazing folks who also happen to have nature names, I always felt uncomfortable about the concept and disliked having to use their name in a sentence when talking to someone that didn't know them. Even after realizing that nature names, or any act of renaming yourself, is an important and understandable act I still get that slightly uncomfortable feeling in the presence of the self named. This same feeling struck about a week ago when I realized in a Mediterranean restaurant that my mother has a bellydance name. The restaurant's dancer sensed my mother's interest while traveling around the tables. She discovered my mother shared a love of the veils and the jangles and asked what her "name" was (apparently all dancers have names). "Samira" mom replied as casually as though it was her given monniker. None of us knew about Samira and none of us expected her to join the performance. Samira made us proud.

After some extended car time on I-95, I'm glad we've named this device so generic it seems to be in every other passing car. I'm less thrilled with the actual name given the association to the Pinta, Santa Maria, and the subsequent desecration of North America, but its not mine to name. Her voice tells us to take a bypass we usually skip. We disagree with her. It is hard not to ascribe gender and name to this vocal passenger. The Navigon system says we should take I-895 doesn't flow as much as Nina, why are you telling me this? Are you sure this is right? Like a loyal canine companion, Nina unflappably readjusts when we don't do her bidding. She's just as even in the redirection. There's no, I told you so's if you go your way, even if its longer and trafficky. 

I'm a laggart. It took me a long time to get a cell and I still don't text. I just got my first, very own, no hand me down laptop. I'm not on Facebook. I didn't feel the slightest pang of jealousy when my brother opened the Navigon. Last night, on a dark road, I read scrawled directions to a friends house as the car passed street lamps. Not exactly Nina's clear display and crisp voice but you can't crumple Nina and toss her into the recycle bin. I proudly tossed the little scrap paper when I was done. The visit was over, I was going to bed.