We often tend to view our names as something vital to the definition of who we are. An integral part of our identity, one could say. I have always liked my name -- short, powerful. Jeff Deck. Translated, it means "Heavenly Peace ... something that you put patio furniture on." But when I came to Dartmouth, I was astounded.
Why are there so many damn Jeffs?
I first ran into the "problem" of my name when I met my Trippees. We played a name game where everyone said their name, where they were from and their favorite kitchen utensil. Surprisingly, there were several spatulas. I said my name was Jeff and that I lived in Manchester, and my favorite utensil was the fork -- not one of those four-pronged deals, but the three-pronged fork. The next person also said that his name was Jeff. Problem. I immediately claimed the name "Jeff One" and the other was burdened with "Jeff Two." I envied the other people on the trip, who had names like Liam, Neha, Sergei, Juan ... let me say that there is only one Liam at Dartmouth.
Even before the trip started, the Jeffs came rolling in. One of the first people I met was named Jeff Cooney. Then there were more Jeffs. Many more. A few of them were sketchy. I didn't want to be in that group. The other night I saw the Dog Day Players Improv group, and they had a new member from the class of 2002 who was named ... Jeff. Now he was cool.
I guess the Jeffs unite the campus, in a way. Virtually everyone here must either be a Jeff or know one. We also must take into account the second-degree Jeffs or "lesser Jeffs," such as people with a last name that includes Jeff (Jefferson, Jeffries, Jeffbergendorf), people with Jeff or Jeffrey as their middle name, or people such as William Jefferson Clinton, President of the United States. Now there's a sketchy guy!
I hang out with Trippees often -- usually Chris Masone and Jeff Two. Chris perpetuates the Jeff One and Jeff Two business. If Chris, Jeff Two and I wanted to start a band, I suppose we could be "Chris and the Jeffs." On one occasion, I was referred to as the "big Jeff," and Jeff Two was called the "small Jeff." Jeff Two was not happy about that. He proposed a solution to the Jeffs problem -- in the style of our friend Liam, taking his name from the end of "William," Jeff Two wanted to be called "Rey."
We don't call him Rey.
I've been playing with an idea for a while ... forming a Jeff Society. Considering that there are several hundred Jeffs on campus, it would be a powerful, influential organization. We could do polls ... "And in other news, 72 percent of Jeffs say that they have never had an 'inappropriate relationship' with an intern." There could be rallies ... Jeffs For Equality, Jeffs For Two-Ply Toilet Paper, etc. Gay Jeffs could be speakers at the events in "Coming Out Week." Female Jeffs could be Women in the Wilderness. (No, really, there's one out there.)
The people that wouldn't be part of the Jeff Society would probably be anyone named Jeffery or Geoffrey. Those spellings annoy me greatly.
I am sure other people feel the effects of Jeff Syndrome. Take for example, Sarahs. There are Sarahs everywhere, not to mention Saras and Seras. Their name means "princess." I know both a Sarah and a Sara so far, and the Sara informed me that there are 83 Sarahs on campus, 14 without an "h." With a common name that means something prissy, Sarahs are doubly screwed.
If your name is Mintcho or Paco, you have nothing to worry about. My roommate's name is Kansas -- he's all set. So is Dallas, whoever he is. There is a Sujo as well, I believe (spelled an entirely different way, probably). And just one Elyse. On the other hand, if you are a Mike or a Matt or a Kate, it's difficult. People with androgynous names suffer too. My friend at home, named Dana, always complained about the numerous beauty pageant invitations he received in the mail. I never got any invitations. Damn pageants.
Think of the poor Monicas on campus.
My lovely Word Count says that I am approaching eight hundred words, so I must close. But keep in mind a few things when you put down this column and do something worthwhile:
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Jeffs are oppressed.
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Jeffs are cool.
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You want to be a Jeff when you grow up.
I'm sorry this column wasn't as funny as the one-ply toilet paper editorial.