In a prior post that is so deep in the chain of newsletters I wrote about my Uncle Bobby.
My uncle Bobby makes teeth.
He has my grandfathers name.
Not the one with the watch.
My dad’s dad.
He owned a taxi company that’s pretty famous in my town.
Around the age that I am now, Bobby attempted to change his name.
He wanted to be taken more seriously.
He wanted to be called Robert.
That lasted for a little bit.
His friends, many of whom he’s known since he’s been five years old resisted.
He shortened his name from Robert to merely ‘R’.
Then with the hockey crowd?
They started calling him Rzee.
It was painful.
His attempt to claim an identity was mocked and usurped.
The people around him wouldn’t let him change. They wouldn’t recognize the change he wanted to make in the world.
For you dear reader, please call me Jim.
But professionally, I’m going to experiment a bit.
I’m making a stretch.
I’m going to show up as James.
I’ll try it out for a bit and see how it fits…