NAMES
Wouldn’t it be awful if your parents named you something weird, like Rainbow, Teflon, or Young White Child? Or even worse, Sue, as the young man in Johnny Cash’s hit song “The Boy Named Sue” was monicured. Fortunately, my parents named me Charles Eugene.
Growing up, I often asked my mother where my name came from. She told me that Charles was from a soap opera that she watched when I was born. I have searched IMDB to find either an actor or a character from the soaps she watched when I was a kid. I could not find any. If you know of someone from the 1950s, let me know in the comments.
When our children were born, my wife and I chose names that we thought would prevent teasing. All three had first names that became some of the most popular when they reached high school. Our youngest was given a name that my wife thought she had created by combining the names of two friends.
Later, a character in a current soap opera had this name, and it became so popular that her name was no longer unique. I have noticed over the years that this is the way things normally happen. Trend setters want to be unique. I guess we should be happy to be the first. The problem is that you are usually just ranked as another follower.
My oldest brother was named after Dad and Mom’s fathers. My other brother was the second Evan in our family. Dad was the first. I am happy to report that his name is now coming back into use. My name, however, seems to be falling out of style.
With all three of our daughters, I suggested an old family name, Beelzebub. She did not find it funny. She also does not laugh anymore when she says that something is driving her crazy, and I reply, “That’s not a drive. It’s a short putt.”
We currently have a dog named Biscuit and a cat called Essa. Biscuit has the coloring of a biscuit, but nothing like the dog in the picture books by that name. We don’t know why the Humane Society personnel called the feline Essa. I guess someone thought that was what she looked like.
Some of you may wonder about my name being Charles, but my friends call me Chuck. I worked with a young man who answered the phone one day and told the person on the other end that we did not have a Charles. It was my Mother. She informed him that we most certainly had a Charles, but they called him Chuck, which was not my name.
I changed it to Chuck because I was tired of being called Charlie. I waited until I hoped I was old enough not to be called Chuckie, and then a doll by that name starred in a horror movie, and suddenly people were calling me that. My roommate in college called me by a nickname that no one else has ever used. Ron, if you are reading this, keep your mouth shut.
I haven’t published a lot of fiction at this point. What I do write is under the name of Chuck Kensinger. I decided in deference to my Mother that all my non-fiction would be under what she calls my real name, and any fiction under Chuck is just a made-up nickname.
