In my second year of college (at the USAF Academy), I decided to declare Latin American Studies as my major to capitalize on my high school Spanish. It was a unique opportunity to learn about a part of the world that was both exotic and close to home. The faculty was excellent. In addition to being taught by officers of Hispanic heritage in our own air force, the staff included officers from Spain, Argentina, and Mexico.

Recent events have reminded me of a particular day in class. I was being taught by a captain in the Mexican Air Force, when I carelessly used “Mexico” and “South America” in the same sentence. Predictably, he was all over that: “NO! We are North Americans just like you.”

Lo Siento, Senor. He was right, of course; Mexicans (and Canadians, plus whatever islands you need to include) comprise North America. Basic geography: this entire half of the world is America, divided into North, Central, and South. We have grown very fond of calling ourselves America, but that’s somewhat hubristic. Our official name is the United States of America; just think of all those Olympic athletes with “USA” on their uniforms.

Although the “Gulf of America” does have a certain logic behind it, but I suppose the “Gulf of North America” would be more accurate still.

Anyway, because of my studies, and my world travels, whenever I hear anyone refer to us as America, this little voice in the back of my mind is saying, “Uh, don’t you mean…?”

But maybe I’m the only one.