One of my Twitter followers pointed out (in response to the recent post about my last name) that not everyone has suffered at the hands of the surname Dicks.
He sent me the link the the Wikipedia page of Julian Dicks, indicating that this man has done just fine for himself in the UK despite his name.
I’d like to point out a couple things about Julian Dicks:
- The man played professional soccer.
- Wikipedia describes him as a “hard man” and tough tackler.
- His nickname during his playing days was “The Terminator”
- He fought thru potential career-ending knee surgery three times.
- He was known as a player who received a great many penalties and missed a great deal of game time as a result of his less-than-legal play.
Am I supposed to be surprised that Julian Dicks has no problem with his name? He’s The Terminator!
I’d also contend that the man’s apparent toughness is likely the result, at least in part, of his last name.
In my own experience, I have found that the name Dicks has a sink or swim quality to it. You learn to rise above it early on or drown in a sea of insults, barbs, and harassment.
And though I am certain that my Uncle Harry Dicks, my other Uncle Harry Dicks and my father Les Dicks suffered through merciless teasing as children, you have never met three tougher men in your life.
I don’t claim to be nearly as tough as my predecessors, but I, too, have been shaped in many ways by my last name. I think that part of my resiliency comes from dealing with my last name, and I learned a great three important lessons as a kid as a result of Dicks:
- Punching a man between the eyes is vastly more effective and kinder on your knuckles than punching him in the mouth.
- Self-deprecating humor is a powerful weapon against most verbal attacks.
- Sticks and stones do break bones. Rather effectively, I might add.
So no. Dicks hasn’t been all bad.
