Doo and Goliath, Part 2

Doo Lim is a good friend of mine. As I've already said, he's given me enough pearls of wisdom for a necklace. Doo is still growing up, as we discussed about a month ago. We're all growing up at this age, if not mentally then still physically.

Regardless, there are those times in our lives when we seem to undergo metamorphoses that leave us better, more self-aware, more mature (or maturer). We're smarter, savvier and we just understand a little bit more about ourselves.

And it is in these moments, that we find hope for ourselves, hope in the comfort of our identity.

Up until and beginning high school, Doo had been known as David Lim. His friends all called him David, and his teachers were instructed similarly. During all these roll calls, teachers would read from the class roster to start off a new school term. After each name, they would often ask if the student would prefer a nickname or to be called by any other name, to make the students more comfortable.

Doo Lim had always told his teachers to call him by his English name.

"Doo Lim," they would say.

"Here," he would reply, and, "I prefer David," would be the inevitable follow-up.

His teachers would quickly jot down "David" in parenthesis after "Doo Lim." He was "Doo Lim (David)" to his peers and his instructors. He had always been hesitant, a bit uncomfortable with his name, but at this particular stage, he was growing up. Like we all do, he was getting more comfortable with who he was and what that meant.

One day, during another typical roll call, a teacher called out his name. Like a call-and-response, name-and-a-here. The students are a slave to their education, but some things must be done.

"Doo Lim?" she asked, her question not really a question, her voice not really a voice, but a demand.

"Here," he replied, matching her decibel for decibel in confidence. The other students were only half-listening at this point. The L's are halfway through the class, after all, and they were just going through the motions unthinkingly and mindlessly with a duty that was the staple to every new beginning in the school term.

The teacher waited expectantly, hesitated ever so slightly for a nickname from Doo, a preference or a hint of another name, but during this roll call, it was different. He wasn't a different person, just coming to terms with the man who was always there.

"Just call me Doo," he said, and all his friends looked up. Who? they thought. Wasn't he David?

He was David, but he was Doo first. He is Doo first. He is many things, but his name is Doo. David is a good name, a strong name. But who was he to himself? David wasn't his name. It wasn't how he looked at himself. His whole life, he was David. The friends he had, the teachers from whom he learned all knew him as David.

But in this moment, this nirvanic second of clarity, he knew who he wasn't, but more importantly, he knew who he was. He knows who he is.

Just call him Doo.