What’s in a (my) name?

Most of us go through life and when someone asks, “what’s your name?” and you tell them, immediate reaction is to say “nice to meet you.”

My name leads to other issues. When folks ask my name I typically respond, “B. Jay Cooper.” Now that is easier to pronounce, say, than Georgeanne Pauladunkus, but it’s what happens after that gets more complicated.

For decades some folks call me “Jay” because, I guess, when they hear or see “B. Jay” they immediately think the “B” is silent and I become “Jay.” (“Jay” actually is a name I do not like on its own. Don’t ask me why because I don’t know. I just don’t like “Jay” out there naked and alone — no offense to the Jays out there. Though I did like all the Jays in Jay and the Americans.) Most who call me Jay don’t know me well or see me often so I don’t correct them.

Others may hear my name and, if they write me an email or letter, it becomes “B.J. Cooper.” Now, in my 71 years of life — actually in my first 12 years of life — I’ve heard everything that B. J. can possibly stand for. Yes, that too. It’s an immature reaction to a name but then again I guess that’s what 12-year-olds do, or those whose intelligence stopped growing at the age of 12.

I also often get (this happened again just last week, in fact), “Oh, ha-ha, are you related to D.B. Cooper?” (For those too young to remember, look him up. Briefly though, D.B. Cooper was a name the media gave to Dan Cooper who in the 1970s hijacked a plane, was given $200,000 in ransom money and who proceeded to…