What's In A Name?

One's name is only a generally understood term, a practical designation. There is no question of a permanent individual implied in the use of the word.
--Milindapanha (Questions of King Menander)

What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet. --William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Though I call myself Richard, as do others who mean in a general way to attract my attention, I feel no particular ownership of the name, any more than if it were a number. I would ascribe, in fact, more sense of belonging to others who possess the same name, in that a superficial marker of identity would gain at least some meaningful power in the absence of applicable information. With the accumulation of particularizing data, however, knowledge deflates any meaning formerly possessed by name itself.

About whom, then, do we have more knowledge than ourselves?

Perhaps this is the reason that couples often give one another new names. Perhaps this is why the American Indians sought new, more personal identities in vision and experience. We are not who we were first labeled to be, but we are most essentially who we have become.

If we say, for instance, You have soiled my good name, if we speak of forgery or defamation of character, we are addressing a matter of value perceived on the basis of knowledge and familiarity--something particular, something defining. We do not speak of a name in and of itself. The name Richard, therefore, cannot in mere utterance be misused, for it has, in itself, no value of meaning whatsoever.

There are thousands of Richards, thousands of Roberts, thousands of Sallys and Vals; and yet at the same time only one of each.

We must weigh the intent of expression against the content of that which is being expressed.

The Mark

I am thinking that we who have MS need some sort of ready identification for proof of the same. This could come in handy in a number of ways. For instance, when we decide to sit at the disabled table in Starbucks and people start looking at us like we're taking a spot from a perfectly authentic cripple. Or say we get pulled over by the police because we keep driving around and around in the same parking lot--really we cannot figure out how to get out, but they think we're crazy or somehow up to no good. This is when we would show our proof, our identity badge.

Now, I have thought about either a tattoo on the forehead or a card that one would carry in his wallet or her purse. The strength of the first notion is that the identity could not be lost (without the loss of ones head as well), but of course not everyone desires a tattoo, and moreover having one on the forehead might put the bearer at risk of accidentally taking the mark of the beast. You never know.

So, all considered, a card seems preferable.

Instead of merely looking like an idiot, one could pull out his card and prove that he is one. End of story. Instead of avoiding the disabled seats on the train because you don't look crippled enough, you could sit your ass down with complete confidence, card at ready for anyone who looks at you sideways.

As a matter of fact, such a card of authentication would come in handy often enough in my daily family life. Instead of trying to explain the same thing again and again (and remember, I am already profoundly fatigued to begin with), I could just flash the card in front of my wife's face and maybe raise my eyebrows a couple times.

I have however in this case some uncertainty about the safety of the card.

Perhaps the whole idea warrants more careful thought. I'll work on it when I have the energy.