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To sum it up, my name is now Mikakel Kaleekaku. That's how the good Jews know me. I don't say Gd's name in vain, and I will not allow my name to be the reason people are going to Gehenim. Thus, I added 'k's to the vowels.
My parents named me Brian. That was their mistake. I love them. To their defense, they didn't know that my name had a vowel. They didn't mean to be blasphemers, but they gave me the wrong name. It turns out they don't agree with that. And they also say I am still their child.
Here is the full account.
Visiting Mom and Dad
I came home and told my parents they gave me the wrong name. My mom wasn't happy. Why? I don't know. I thought they would be happy I was visiting. She also didn't like when I told her she bought me the wrong sweater for Chanukah. That was when I was in third grade. I still remember her telling me that I will wear the sweater.
They called our rabbi (at least it was their rabbi- I only grew up with him) and asked him and he said that Brian was my name. To quote, 'He always got called up to the Torah as Brian Ben Shlomo.' To note, my dad changed his name to Spencer. The rabbi refuses to call him up as Spencer. The rabbi was worried that the congregants wouldn't go for Brian Ben Spencer HaKohen being called up to the Torah.
My mom brought out the birthing records and the legal documents. She even showed me my social security card. She started yelling, 'All of these say Brian! Brian!!! We sent Brian to school! I gave birth to Brian!!! I think your dad even said, "If it's a boy, we're calling him Brian." I was in labor and he said Brian!!!!! Your name? Brian!!!!!!!!'
Follow Up Notes
My parents refused to call me Mikakel Kaleekaku. So we settled on Brykin.
After the whole debacle, Mom said we're eating dinner. I told my mom and dad that their dishes aren't good enough for me. They didn't like that idea either. I just don't think they understand what it takes to be a Jew.
They raised me a Jew, but they don't know what it takes to raise a Jew. I'll bring that conversation up at dinner tomorrow night. I hope they don't overreact to that too.
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That is how the punchline of a Jewish joke should look. Like you're questioning something, dealing with serious stomach issues, or giving a sermon.