I was the kid in the yearbook who had many names. At the end of each row that held portraits of six or so students, my name would appear as “Johnathan Ryan Francisco Escobar Kuna Quezada.” I can’t help but feel sorry for the younger me who had to endure instability when it came to names.
At birth, I was named after my father, a man whose presence would be so faint in my life, it would only exist as a far-off memory. My mother and grandmother called me J.R., influenced by one of the main antagonists in the show “Dallas.” ...