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Truisms in Names


For some reason, this book was a staple in my developmental years.





The other day, my close bud phoned, “Say, can I come over and visit?”

“Yes!”

Over the past two years, we have undergone tumultuous situations, our lives in upheaval. In the midst of this turmoil, whenever we got together, all the bad things receded for that visit and we could laugh at life.

We’re each others’ sanity checks.

It turns out her timing couldn’t have been more perfect - I just found out that I’m a 40 year old 5’8” 130lb black man.

That can explain a lot of things, esp. my love life.

To condense a long story, I went to the records office and pulled up my file. There, embedded in the mess of documentation which I never received, was an affidavit that I’m a black male.

I had to sit down for that one.

Don’t worry: I did all the necessary steps to resolve that matter. Still and all, the fact that no one questioned the name, “Maura” is not a man’s name...

Growing up as a “Maura” meant I never had a nickname. “Mo” was way too short to be fun and never crossed anyone’s minds and “Moron,” well, that didn’t pop up until I was in my 20’s.

I spent my life spelling my first name:

Me: “Laura with an ‘M’”

Person: “Oh, so it’s M - O - R- A?”

Sound of head banging against the wall.

or

Me: “M as in Mary, a u r a. No, not ‘L,’ ‘M’ like ‘Moron’!”

Person: “How do you spell Stone?”

Me: “How would YOU spell Stone?”

Person: Uh?

Me: “Stone as in Rock?”

Person: “Stoneasin What?”

Sound of head banging against the wall.


Up until I was in my 40’s, I received most of my mail addressed to Mr. Maura Stone.

Now this.

My friend and I got good and snoggered, “To life!"

She, as well, has problems. Her staff posts pictures of “Jafar,” the evil protagonist in Aladdin, on their instagram and twitter accounts, alluding to her. She inherited these losers when she took this new job and now they’re pissed she’s making them work.

Life can be so rough at times for all parties.

Outside of my newfound sex and race change and substantial overnight weight loss, I still feel the same. As does my partner in crime, the evil Jafar. We discussed how names really do relate to someone’s character. She came up with a list of men’s names NOT to name a baby, based upon our life experience, augmented by our snoggered state:

Mikes are bad news.

Chrises break your heart.

Daves are plumbers.

Ralphs drink way too much beer.

Harolds love porn.

And anyone who calls their child, Billy, well, be prepared for there’s always a child in horror films named “Billy” as in: “Don’t open the door, Billy!”

By this time, we lost interest in that conversation and moved on to others.

Until my sex and race is resolved, I’m going to enjoy my new status and push it to the nth degree.

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