Someone emailed me today and wished me a happy saint's day. In the message she mentioned that her pope, her bishop and her pastor are all "Josephs". Pretty cute, I'd say.
Although people have wished me a happy "name" day, my name is sort of an irony.
My birth certificate states that I am Joseph II. The "II" is because my father had some aversion to his son being called "Junior" so the Roman numeral was employed. Although an aunt vehemently berated him about it.
Oddly enough, that wasn't the only error. I am not the second Joseph.
My father's name really isn't Joseph. Nor Joe.
He tells the story about going to school for the first day. His teacher was asking the children their names and entering them in her roll book. When she asked my father what his name was, he said, correctly, "Habeeb". She asked, "What did you say?"
This was Mississippi in the early 1930's before the common names were "D'Antenarious" or "Kareem".
He said, "Habeeb." She begged again, "Honey, you'll have to tell me your name one more time." He answered, "Habeeb". She tried another avenue, "Can you spell that for me?" He said, "No m'am. I'm five. That's why I'm in school." She then asked, "Ok, tell me again your name."
He said, "My name is Joe."
And that's how it came to pass.
That's why my name is Joe.
