Poor Jonah
One of the people from whom we bought this house was named Jonah. We still get a considerable amount of mail addressed to Jonah—mostly catalogs from outdoor equipment suppliers and fitness clothing manufacturers, medical journals, a few mortgage refinancing solicitations, and an occasional Runner's magazine. [Jonah was (still is, probably) a serious athlete who outfitted the basement with the wraparound mirrors mentioned in the previous post, the better to make the basement-filled-with-fitness-equipment feel like a real gym, I assume.] Most of the catalogs are addressed simply to Jonah _________, with no saluation, while the mortgage and credit card solicitations are often addressed to Mr. Jonah _________.
This always makes me a bit indignant on Jonah's behalf, since Jonah is a woman. As I've mentioned before, I can't stand it when people call me Lori H. Cho instead of Lori Hylan-Cho (or worse, address mail intended for me—as my grandmother did recently—to Mrs. Albert Cho), but whenever I get a piece of mail addressed to Mr. Jonah _________, I feel lucky that, for the most part, only grocery store clerks who aren't paying attention address me as "Mister".
I have to say, however, that when I got today's mail, I was more than a bit indignant on Jonah's behalf. You'd think that at least the National Organization for Women would get her name right.