What's in a John Handcock or a John Henry?
This entry was posted on 1/16/2011 10:46 AM and is filed under Random Thoughts.
When we are born, we are given a name. We are not in a position to consult on the matter. We are concentrating on more fundamental issues. And, most of us have that name the rest of our lives.
I envy those people who step forward and change their name. I wouldn't ever do that. But, wouldn't it be great to be a Rock or a Brick? Solid. I don't know about Rock Rice. Maybe Rockland Rice and I could go by Rock.
My birth certificate reads "Jack Paul Rice." Then there's an addendum that says "Paul Jack Rice." Hand written on the addendum after the word "Jack" is the word "son." If I were the oldest child, I would wonder about my legitimacy (not that that matters anymore). I decided that the answer is that you don't wake a mother up after child birth and ask for a name.
It had been decided that I would be called Jack. And that worked out reasonably well. There was a time in Kindergarten when upperclassmen (1st and 2nd graders) would tease me at recess with chants of "Jacky Rice eats mice." Except for a couple bloody noses, I survived those episodes.
Until I got to college, very few people even knew my name was Paul Jackson Rice. In college, a number of my friends called me "PJ." I liked that. It wasn't Rock, but it had a friendly ring. "Hey PJ, what's happening." I didn't hang around with a very intellectual group. We were mostly jocks and we concentrated on living up to our image.
It wasn't until I got in the military that my name became a nuisance. The Army had what they called a signature block. First name, middle initial, last name. There was no variance. "Sarge, what about "P. J. Rice?" "What, you don't have a first name?" So for all 28 years of my military career, I was Paul J. Rice.
When I joined the Army, you could read my signature. But over the years, it flattened out. The "Paul" is still somewhat legible, but the "J" has folded into the "l" in "Paul," and the rest has ended up in a straight line. I am not proud of this, but what are you going to do?
When I was the Commandant of the JAG School from 1985 to 1988, I signed over 10,000 diplomas and not one of them is readable. A few hundred of them were for master of laws degrees and probably are hanging on someone's wall. A visitor may ask, "Whose signature is that?" And the degree holder will say, "Beats the hell out of me."
The only advantage in not using your first name is when the telephone rings and a friendly voice on the other end says, "Paul, how are you?" You know immediately that the person doesn't know you and is probably trying to sell you something.
When I retired from the Army, I became Chief Counsel at the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration. The Administrator was named Jerry Curry and our director of government affairs was Jamie Fish. The Agency was being run by Curry, Fish and Rice.
At NHTSA, I was permitted to change my signature block to whatever I wanted. "P. Jackson Rice" did nothing for me. I finally decided on Paul Jackson Rice. The good new was that I didn't have to change my signature. I just made the straight line a little longer. Since I am a stickler for details, I want you to know that even though you could not see the "i" in "Rice," I always dotted it.
