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Name Essay
Anthony. It means “highly praiseworthy” in English. Anthony is fragile. It is thin skin. Anthony wouldn’t be able to take a joke. Anthony is delicate, it has so many soft sounds that you could hurt the name just by saying it. It has a cream color feel to it. It’s written in small cursive letters. It sounds like a whisper. It’s soft and gentle.
I was named after my grandfather. I never had the chance to meet him. He died before I was born. His father was an immigrant from Italy, and their family all lived in the Midwest. They were one of the few ambitious Italian families to live west of New York City. My grandfather helped settle there with nothing but his family and courage. He did some great things with that name. Now, the name has been passed on to me, for me to do great things.
Some of my friends call me Anton, which represents toughness and aggressiveness. Anton is tougher than a $4 steak. Anton would be a linebacker on the football team with scars on every limb. Anton would put graffiti on a building and write his name in all capital letters. He would break his leg playing hockey and not realize it. It’s ironic. One of the toughest sounding names comes from one of the most delicate.
Yet neither of them fit me. I’m not an Anthony. I’m not praiseworthy. I’m not better than anyone else. Anton is so in your face, and I’m more quiet and reserved. Not because I’m not tough. I’m just not that type of tough. I’m the tough that gets up when someone knocks me down. When someone pushes me down and says I’m not good enough.
Unfortunately, there is one more nickname. Tony. And look, I can live with Anthony and Anton. I can work with those. But not Tony. Tony sounds so “I’m better than you.” Tony would wear sunglasses indoors. And worst of all, Tony represents arrogance. Tony sees everyone as less than him. Tony would let you know he’s better than you. Not me. The one characteristic I strive to have is humbleness. The last thing I want is for people to associate me as a person to arrogance.
Sometimes I wish I could have a new name. Like Brandon. One that fits me. The name of one who is casual, and easily approachable. One of someone who is sort of a quieter person with a calmer personality, but has that hidden edge to him. The name Brandon fits me. That’s who I am.
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An essay about my name, modeled after an excerpt from The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros.