> When he signed the bill of the receipt, my father wrote carefully and slowly *Walter Frost*. Ivan teased him about it on the way home. > > “Valter Phrosht, let me see,” he said in his deep voice. “Who is this Valter Phrosht?” … “Whatever happened to Volodomyr Moroz?!” --- This short scene reminds me of *my* name. “Terry” wasn’t what my parents had in mind. They wanted to name me Minh, but their doctor recommended an English name as it would be easier to pronounce. “Minh” is hardly difficult, but it is what it is. To make matters worse—or more confusing—my family identify with being Chinese but our last name is in Vietnamese. We don’t even pronounce it correctly. So rather than “Minh”, it should be “Ming” as that’s what my parents actually call me. In the end, “Terry” is fine. That’s what I’ve been going with this whole time. “Ming” is fine, too as it is how my family knows me. Some of my friends even call me "Terrence" which I kind of like. In a sense it allows me some ownership: still English, still easy to pronounce, but it is of my choosing.