Ross Ross

Ross is not my first name.

Many of you already know this. When my mother was carrying me, her favourite American actor was Gregory Peck, so naturally she wanted to name me after him. Or, at least, give me the same name.

But my mom and dad also liked the name Ross and planned to use that name as my first, with Gregory as my middle name. Only, Ross Gregory Brown didn't have quite the ring to it as Gregory Ross, and so that was what they named me.

Gregory Ross Brown. Yet, they called me, simply, Ross.

Of course, all of my government-issued identification bears either my full name or Gregory R. Brown, and so any time I receive correspondence from government agencies, it's addressed to Gregory Brown.

When I am at any medical facility where I have to show my health card, the receptionist swipes my card and generally directs me to "have a seat, Greg. Someone will be with you shortly."

I can forgive someone for calling me Gregory. I really take exception to being called Greg.

When I file my taxes, each April, I only fill out my name as Ross Brown on the forms. I've never had a problem. I always get my refund.

The other week, DW, Kid 1, and I received our voter registration cards in the mail. These cards tell us where we can cast our ballots in advance polls as well as on election day, which is this Thursday, June 2. When we received our cards, we stowed them in a safe place, to take them with us to vote.

On Saturday, the three of us decided that we would take a break from our chores and go to the advanced polling station in our neighbourhood. It was the first time that Kid 1 had voted in a provincial election and her second time voting, ever. It was also the first time that she came with her parents to vote.

DW grabbed our voting cards and we headed out. When we arrived at the voting station, she handed Kid 1 her card, kept her own card, and handed me my card. As I exited our car, I read the name on the card.

Ross is not my first name: it's my middle name. Except on this card, where Ross was both my first and middle name.

At the check-in table, I straightened it out. "I've been called worse," I told the woman who crossed my name of the list and handed me my ballot.

"It's so nice, your parents used it twice?" she countered.

So go ahead: call me Ross Ross. It beats Pinhead any day.

Don't forget to vote on Thursday, Ontarians.