Cumy to the core?

Last week, my SUV was in the auto shop for several days on account of father backing into it. So I didn't have my usual set of keys, and therefore no attached Gold's Gym pass. I actually managed to make it to the gym last Tuesday, on account of the kitchen renovation madness coming to a close, but primarily because American Idol was postponed a night. This meant that I would have to scan in with my driver's license and finally address my last name being entered as Cumy when I renewed my membership last summer.

I already knew what was going to happen when they searched for my last name and found no record. I couldn't bring myself to pronounce it, so I just said, "Try C-u-m-y. I think someone confused the two Rs for an M. It's not my name and I wouldn't wish it on anybody," I ended playfully. The Gold's Gym associates were having none of the humor, either because they were dense, possibly naive Mormons or my best guess: they were thoroughly trained to not respond to sexual innuendos in any way, shape or form for fear of a corporate lawsuit.

"Yes, there it is. Would you like us to change it for you?" Um, yah please! It's not like I just got married. I'd like my surname to reflect my birth certificate, driver's license and passport, thank ye very much.

I had them throw away the carbon copy change slip, something I regret doing as it would have made for a lovely follow-up scan.

Later that night, I pondered the last name of Cumy. Maybe my family originated from the Cumy clan, and somewhere along the lines of ancient fanciful script, the M was mistaken for two Rs. Was I, and thus my paternal lineage, a Cumy at heart? I searched out the last name online, finding only a few references in the northern United States, but I was more intrigued with the UK 'Distribution of Cumy':


I find it very telling that in this particular distribution, one finds Cumy concentrated near the upper tip. And as I most certainly have English and Welsh blood, my theory of being a real Cumy is all the more plausible.

Riveted, I searched Facebook to see what Cumy would, er, produce. And if my distant relatives were lookers. I did find these two faceless listings, which I think make for some awesome names:

Bob Cumy
Cumy, Trey

I will forever wonder if my true fate is as a Cumy. Or as the French would pronounce it, Coom-ay.