The two proud parents are in the nursery, smiling with joy due to the birth of their son, and the nurse comes to them to fill out the birth certificate papers, and he or she asks, “What is the full name of your baby son?”  They say, “Dick Bill Johnson.”  The nurse then looks at them quizzically and asks again, “are you sure that is the um, correct name for the certificate?”

“Nah, we are kidding.”

How often, I wonder, does this happen?  I would say never.  I mean, how often do you name your baby boy Dick?  My guess is this happens in America about as frequently as politicians trying to be frugal with taxpayer money and not spending beyond their means.  Instead, most likely these proud parents will name their baby boy with a respectful, gentlemanly name like Richard, and his full name will be Richard William Johnson.  That sounds so much better and honorable as a future gentleman, right?  It sounds so much more sophisticated than Dick Bill Johnson. In fact, Dick Bill Johnson sounds like Dick is an action verb rather than a first name, and in fact, it could be the title of a porno or horror movie.

But why do I bring this up?  Well, as my astute readers will recall, I do not have a real middle name, only R. and I wrote about this dilemma in my recent blog: When is it safe to use the R word?  And of course, I have been thinking about what middle name to assign myself now, before I die and leave it for the coroner to guess. Richard is a very respectable and honorable name for a boy it seems, and accepted throughout a man’s life as he grows older. But when I thought about using Richard, I realize that sometime during life, Richard becomes Dick in America!

That brings up the question: When does Richard become Dick?  Clearly, Dick did not exist at birth, then when did he enter into this glorious life and take his first breath of air?  It seems to me that Richard sounds nothing like Dick and so why is it so common that Richard transforms himself into Dick?  Do families allow Richard to become Dick at puberty when his voice changes to a deeper timber? Or maybe, Richard becomes Dick when he gets married, and then has children, then gets divorced and acquires grey hair on his sideburns and tries to date a 30-year-old woman. And that brings up the question, do you think Herman Melville first came up with the title of his famous book as “Moby Richard” before he figured it should be more effective as “Moby Dick?”

I am sure there are millions of very fine Dicks in America, so none should be offended by this article, however, because of this potential name transformation, I will not choose Richard as my middle name.  Could you imagine:  S. Dick Carson?

No.  S. Dick Carson will never exist.

As far as Bill is concerned, this is confusing to me too.   The parents named their child Richard William Johnson, not Dick Bill Johnson.  But similar to Richard, when does William become Bill?  When does the British throne in London start calling Prince William —the august name of Prince Bill?   My guess is never.  Sounds too mundane, and certainly not very stiff upper-lipped for the throne.  I mean, Bill probably eats his Figgie pudding with his fingers when no one is watching, and likes to eat McDonalds French fries, drinks too much beer and drives a Ford Pick-up, but probably is remarkably much more fun at parties, especially when he attends them with his friend Dick.  What bothers me, is how does William become Bill?  It is a common transformation and W does not sound anything like B, right?  I could see shortened names like Willy, or Will.  Those make sense to the ear and are logical, but Bill?  Who chooses when William become bill?  Puberty, like our friend Dick?  Or maybe after some years, when William must write his long name on employment applications and then try to date a pretty girl who doesn’t want to say William or Willy, but prefers the masculine sound of Bill?  I would guess it is the latter, because let’s be frank, women control us men with supernatural power, it seems.

And while we are on the subject of men’s name transformations, why and when does Robert become Bob, or Bobby?  Perhaps the answer is simply it is much less time consuming to write Bob than Robert, but Bob does not even rhyme with Robert!  B does not seem to equal R, methinks.

And finally, why does John become Jack?   Shouldn’t John stay John, and why does he have to assume the identity of Jack?  Is Jack more adventuresome, and swashbuckling, like Jack Sparrow in the Pirates of the Caribbean?  You know what I mean—John F. Kennedy was also known as Jack Kennedy.

So, what are we to conclude with this silliness?

1.  I will not change my middle name from R. to Richard and therefore, I will keep searching for a good middle name.  Or maybe I will not, and keep drinking scotch when the thought crosses my mind.
2. Names are important, but not the end of the world
3. What matters may not be your name, but who you are inside and whether your soul searches to try to make the world around you a better place, when you are able, and to thank God for your blessings.  Even if your name is Dick.
4. Before I get hate mail from throngs of Dicks, Bobs, Bills and Jacks, please understand that I respect all of you and wish you all well.

© SRCarson Publications