When I was a kid (and early teen), I would not say my own name. It sounded weird to me the way the M of Tim went into the Y of Young.

I also worried about being called Uncle Tim one day. I just could not make it sound right, or even roll off my tongue.

I remember some older guy asking my name, and I just became mute. I knew it was awkward, but somehow less awkward than saying it. I think Patty Faulker told him, but I could be mistaken.

Now I like my name. When I write it, I write Timothy. When I say it, I say Tim.

I think I now like my name for the reasons I disliked it before.

Tim is abrupt. It just ends in pursed lips after one syllable. It starts with a crisp T, and a vowel is just there to bridge to that muffled M.

Timothy, on the other hand, is lyrical, with the flourish of a Y at the end. It has a nice mix of letters that lilt, and you can hold it as long as you like. I give it extra flair with a pen in the looping second T and the Y at the end. So what if it is illegible. I’ve seen worse.

Like other things, I guess I just had to grow into it.

I’ve taken some liberties to make it my own. I used to have a collection of vintage Plymouths, and so I merged Timothy with Plymouth to get Timouth. Yes, there’s an added U, but Timouth is more my name than Tim, at two thirds. It looks better than Timoth, which just looks like a typo.

James is regal. After my uncle Jim. Problematic for others I have known with that name, but it is solid. Traditional. And hidden away, as middle names so often are.