As a child I read the story of Goldilocks. Gold – i – locks: three syllables. Before long I could write her name and spell it accurately. Everyone in Second Class at Leeton Public School achieved the same competence. We were pretty sharp in those days, in Leeton, New South Wales.
My name is Goldenberg. Gold-en-berg. Three syllables.
It was in the year 1972 that my childhood wish to receive letters in the mail was fulfilled. Advertisers wrote me letters, medical specialists wrote to me, insurors, charities and other mendicants all wrote to the doctor. Most of them mastered the three-syllable test that we Leeton Alumni passed in 1952.
Those who had most trouble with my three syllables were medical specialists. Lots of them wrote to Dear Dr Goldenburg. The vagrant ‘u’ looked ugly.One wrote: Dear Dr Rosenberg. I knew a few Doctors Rosenberg. Were they receiving letters addressed to Goldenberg?
I had a few letters addressed to Dr Goldstein. I feel flattered: David Goldstein, the eminent oncologist, is a remote relative by marriage, and one of Medicine’s natural intellectuals.
One distinguished colleague wrote to: DearDr Rosenstein. Stein the crows!
I was thrilled to be addressed as Dr Rosenkrantz. Obviously a Shakespeare enthusiast.
I’ve received lots of letters addressed to Dr Goldberg. Goldbergs are thick on the ground; we three-syllable Goldenbergs are fewer. Those thick Goldbergs – many of them lovely people – suffer syllable envy.
Last week an insurer wrote to me as follows: Dear Dr Glodenburg. Three syllables, two innovations!
Language advances, spelling evolves, we progress.