Dahnke (dank) is NOT the easiest name in the world to pronounce. Throughout my 27 years and 9 months of existence I've endured years of first-day-of-class role call, anticipating the end of the Cs and the beginning of the Ds in order to cut off my new teacher and avoid one of the many common (and not so common) butcherings of my last name:
"Amie...D-uh-uhm-hankey?"
"Amie...Donkey?"
"Amie...uhhhh...Duh-honkie?"
"Amie...Dan-key?"
You get the idea. You would also probably get the idea that once married, I would change my name lickety split.
You'd think so. And I would have, were it not for the fact that when it comes to filing papers and turning in forms, I unfortunately do not possess the genes enabling me to do those tasks on time (Yes, I'm knowingly blaming nature, not initiative here).
Thus, 20 months and 4 days into my marriage, I'm still Amie Dahnke.
But that's all about to change, thanks to the power combination of moving to a new state and being pregnant. With moving, I already HAVE to go to the DMV to get a Kentucky license, so I might as well get my name legally changed at that time too; the good old "kill two birds with one stone" never fails. Secondly, it's important to me, and to Jas, that I'm Amie Windsor before Poppyseed comes.
And so, here I am, in Kentucky, working on changing my last name. It's bittersweet; I love my family and where I come from, but I am definitely looking forward to no longer fearing when people try to pronounce my last name.
Here's the kicker: People in Kentucky...they CAN say my last name.
I was at the bank, changing my social security number after it was inadvertently transposed by the incredibly nice man who set our new accounts up, when the teller, who has lost my attention to a Very Important text message, called my attention:
"Miss Dahnke?"
"Say what?"
"Miss Dahnke, right?"
"Oh my gosh. You just said my last name correctly. That like, never happens."
The young man, dressed more like a Pearl District barista than a Kentucky banker (Not that I know a ton of Kentucky bankers, but let's just say that dress code here doesn't typically rise above blue collar fashion), flashed me an adorable, knowing smile and simply said:
"Dahnke is a good German name. I'm willing to bet you most people here can say that correctly."
With that, he handed me receipt and I was on my way.
I think that teller was onto something. Covington, Kentucky, in case you didn't know (Which I didn't until Jas and I visited Epipheo in September), has a rich German history. As mentioned before, it's located across the river from Cincinnati. Founded by three dudes who named the city after their war buddy who died in the War of 1812, Covington was kind of doomed to be Cinci's younger sibling. The river is more shallow on the Covington side, making strong commerce a bit difficult and population growth a bit stagnant.
That's where the Germans enter (In a good, non-WWII way). In 1834 a wave of German immigrants landed in the city and made it their own. German-speaking neighborhoods cropped up and sausage and sauerkraut became a regular aroma on the streets. Two of the original neighborhoods are still thriving today, especially Mainstrasse. Mainstrasse (Or Main Street) is a quirky little row of pubs (Including this awesome establishment that Jas and I ventured into for much needed vittles after our first day of moving), apartments, cafes and small businesses (Like the yoga studio I attend and our go-to laundromat, The Wash Haus). It's a street that reminds us both of Portland - something akin to Alberta Street before it really blew up.
At the heart of the Covington German community is Mainstrasse Village. What I know about Mainstrasse Village so far is that it (with Cincinnati) boasts the world's largest Oktoberfest, second only to Munich. So, come September, make sure to visit us to indulge in a week of German beer, German food (Including local chili joints' celebratory Zinzinnati dogs) and German music.
Lederhosen required. German last names can be left at the door.
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