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Worth in [pdf]. Doe, who is a Democrat. For each John Doe, of course, dating poses its own challenges, what with the propensity for people these days to Google their suitors. His parents avoided that problem, embracing the names James and Gloria Doe when they became citizens.

As did his younger brother Kwang, who selected Anthony as his new name, paying homage to a famous Roman. He says he has no regrets about his own choice. But he acknowledges he sometimes likes to break the mold by using his middle initial, H. Voter Registration Card. In a country of immigrants, it is shameful how we casually mock the names of others. My last name is the same as an unusually named celebrity and the jokes I hear are insipid.

A nice Vietnamese guy I went to school with was named, unfortunately, Dung pronounced Yome. Unless you have something very clever to say, just leave these people alone. Doe: Why not change the spelling to Doh? This reminds me of a conversation I had with a retired F. All my life people will get to know me before they ask what my real name is. I tell them that it is Thibodeau. They then insist that my nickname is Pearly because of my teeth. How many times have people been told they were going to meet Perley Thibodeau and expected a girl to show up? My first name in the Marine Corps which is used to southern red neck names like Bobby Joe and Billy Bob was apparently a problem too, so they simply renamed me Private.

Jewish friends have always affectionately called me Perlstein and Perlberg. I tell people that Perley is a variation on the English name Parley A reader of the Bangor Daily News recently asked me in print what kind of a name Perley Thibodeau is even though I was famous all over the state of Maine twenty five years ago. That elicited a quick apology. My mother who named me Perley after her brother Perley C. Campbell always told me to use my middle initial J which stands for James.

Being part Irish she thought that made it sound more dignified and and added class. When I was an actor and model in the early sixties I did use the name James Thibodeau but, I never knew when I was being called to the runway, stage or movie set and almost missed a lot of dramatic entrances. All dressed up with nowhere to go. Happy with being Perley, I finally decided that, like plastic surgery, improvement can be worse than the original and decided that I would do what I could do to make the name Perley J.

Thibodeau readily acceptable. I never understand why so many Asians feel the need to choose Western names when they come here.

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His birth name is much nicer. I doubt there are many Americans who drop their names when they move abroad. I do not understand why one has to change their name to integrate better to the American Society. And to my pheasant surprise, more and more people, known and unknown, pronounce my name correctly, simply because they are more caring about pronouncing a non English name in this Global era.

Maybe they understand that there is a world outside US also! He had his cap turned around on his head, and his long socks had fallen down to his ankles. He looked to be about my age, which was ten going on eleven. His skin was darker than I remembered. After a minute he turned his back to me. She was in the sewing-needs section, digging around for a certain kind of ribbon that Mama wanted. Then that winter we ran into Tater again. Tater was inside the small metal building with a sack of his own. He looked at me, and then he looked at Angie, but he seemed to know better than to look at Pops.

In a minute he was gone, the empty wagon clattering behind him. The man shrugged.

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Pops was like that—ornery, and always wondering why he had to be the one to come up short when everybody else was getting more. Now the man was telling him that black pecans were no different than white pecans. He held his hand out, one pecan next to the other in his palm. They looked identical to me. The man was slow to smile. A table stood between them, and Pops nearly knocked it over trying to get at him. Pecans spilled to the floor and puddled at our feet.

The man removed a wad of cash from his pocket and threw a couple of bills at Pops. On the drive home we sat side by side in the cab of his truck, an old Chevy Cameo. In our haste to leave, our usual seating arrangement had been confused, and now I was stuck between him and Angie. I could feel the heat coming off his body, see the sweat like dew drops in the hair of his forearms.

The next time we saw Tater was at the Delta, the movie house in town. He was waiting in line at the colored entrance.

MY NAME IS JOHN CENA :::ORIGINAL

He was wearing nice clothes—church clothes, probably—and there was a lady with him. She kept her hands on his shoulders.

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Then standing at the colored window at the Shrimp Boat, waiting for a dinner order. Then out in front of the Coke plant, watching a white man on a forklift load crates on a truck. How does somebody go from being invisible to being everywhere you look? Then he started calling out my name and I started calling out his. He waited four years before coming back out for baseball. It was now, and he came up the same route as before, walking past the pool and the pool house and the snowball stand, crossing Market Street, and then entering the old shell road half-dancing to whatever music was playing.


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My age group had graduated to the Babe Ruth League, and once again we were waiting for tryouts to start. Unlike before, nobody threw shell at him. Instead they all stood together and stared, and they really let him have it with their mouths. Tater just kept coming. Puberty had found me the year before, and I was already six-foot-two and two hundred and thirty-five pounds. The one good thing about being so large was that nobody messed with me—ever. He had a good arm and his throws popped in my mitt, making everyone turn for a look.

It was more like he suddenly needed to say something that was true. Tater dazzled us all during the tryout, or at least those of us who bothered to pay attention to him. He still had that little oil-wet glove, and even though it was no bigger than his hand, nothing got past him.

branonsounly.tk During drills, one of the coaches hit fly balls in the outfield, and we took turns catching them, and when one came off his bat too hard and sailed high over our heads and past us, it was Tater who broke from the group and chased it down, catching it at a full gallop with his back to the hitter, like Willie Mays. He could throw the ball on a rope from the outfield fence to home plate, and he was fastest on the base paths. The coach of the Redbirds, Junior Doucet, won a coin toss and made me the first pick of the draft, and all those boys later he made Tater the last pick. One day that summer I got up the nerve to ask Tater why he was there.

North City Park is more like three miles. Pops worked as a night watchman at the plant in town where they made cooking oil. He punched in at p. Even though he had to get his sleep during the day, he still never missed any of my games, including those with early afternoon starts.