I am not sure any of us know the answer to that question. Especially not me, because I have been studying this subject vigorously for most of my life, since I learned to read and write after becoming vigorously potty trained.  Unfortunately, after all the years of study and analysis, it seems my efforts have become fruitless, and yet, like the Holy Grail, I must keep searching for the answer. It must be there somewhere.

We have to be careful with our use of words in today’s society, walking on verbal eggshells, as Straus and Kreisman appeared to have coined in their book about dealing with someone afflicted with borderline personality disorder:  I Hate You, Don’t Leave Me.   For example, we cannot call people who look like females—women, or even worse, ladies.  If so, we will be tarred and feathered in public and our jobs will be at stake because there may be a possibility that these people are biological women, but don’t want to be called such because they are transitioning their sex and we should know that up front. Even worse, if we look at a group of three or greater humans that certainly look female on casual observance, we can absolutely never say these ruthless words: “Hi ladies, have a nice day.”   In addition, we cannot use the word merit with regard to job applications, or even government cabinet positions, when we examine qualifications and quality of work.  We are called racists if we look at the quality of an individual and that person’s skills, rather than looking at the color of their skin first.  Ironically though, isn’t it the other way around?

Now it all makes sense, doesn’t it? The tap water in our country has been poisoned by nefarious forces with Borderline Juice, and so now, our population is 50% afflicted borderline personality disorder.

We all know we can’t use the “N” word, that goes without saying, but what about the secret “R” word, that itself seems to belong to a secret society of gatekeepers who are the only ones allowed to use it correctly?  The R word can have many meanings or stand for many things or even represent names that may or may not send shivers up your creaking spines, but who is qualified to bring light to this secret society of R?

R.  Yes R.  This is the weight that has been on my shoulder since early childhood—he (yes, he wants to be called a he), sits on my shoulders all the time, when I am walking or working, swimming laps in the pool or laying on the beach enjoying the waves crashing as I look at attractive birthing persons. I could be sitting down for dinner, or sitting at the bar trying to have a nice conversation.  But this heavy R. has his special favorite—watching me make love and seemingly making play-by-play commentary at the same time, I don’t know. I just feel it.  He’s always there, prickling my skin, taunting me and wondering when in my lifetime, I will ever figure him out.  He thinks he is winning the bet he apparently made with my parents before I was born.

My name is S.R. Carson.  My parents gave me my full first name (it remains secret, known only to those close to me, and my cat) and a full last name also.  However, they chose to give me “R.” as my formal middle name.  Their argument apparently was that rather than a real full name, some day when I was old and grey, I would figure out what the real R. stands for and that I could call myself that formally. Or maybe, it will be announced finally, at my grave by a pastor who I hope, says a prayer for my soul without a middle name until it is announced at the end, or maybe my Lord Jesus will give it to me in heaven, I hope.

Well, I never did figure it out.  Many professors and employers have yelled at me when I apparently do not give my full name on employment applications, medical school diplomas, IRS forms and other legal documents.  They seem to think I am careless, or too stupid to spell, or playing silly games. So, when they give me trouble, I just tell them it’s on a need-to-know basis, and they are not qualified to know.

I have thought of many full names, now, at this stage of my life, including Richard, Rolando, Ricardo, Rathbone, Rufus, Ronnie and many others, but have not yet chosen one to make its home in my real full name.  Or maybe I will use an appropriate middle name, depending on the situation, or environment, like Ricardo when I am south of the border and Rathbone, when I am in the U.K.

However, what you need to know is the simple and common name Richard will require further extensive discussion(s) in my upcoming blogs, for those of you who are half-interested.

© 2022 S.R. Carson Publications