By Dale Welch
I almost had a “super” name. As I think about it now, I could have made it work for me.
When I was born, my oldest brother was 18 years old; my other brother was almost 16 years older; and my sister, 11 years older at the time. I was the baby of the family. I spoiled it all for my sister, who had been the baby for those 11 years. My mom had just turned 43 a couple of months before I was born.
With momma being 43 years old at the time and with me being 9 lbs., 14 oz.., she was conked out when they needed a name for me. My Aunt Delvey named me one of the names they had discussed, but not the right one. They misspelled both my first name and my middle name. Instead of “Dale” for my middle name, it was spelled “Dial.” They also transposed letters in my first name. At least they got “Welch” right.
Momma’s family name was “Clark” and she wanted to incorporate that name. She was going to name me “Kent Clark.” Now, how cool that would have been. A reverse of Clark Kent, you know…Superman! My poor tired momma just left it like it was. Did not correct the spelling either.
I wound up in trouble during my first few days of school. I was not answering my name at rollcall. The first-grade teacher could not figure me out. So, for a few days, I was sent to the slow class. They figured me out. The reason I was not answering my name was because I had never been called that before. Plus, I really did not want to be there anyway. I could not understand why my momma, who loved me so much, could put me in a place like that. For the record, I went kicking and screaming for almost 12 years.
Especially with me being in the newspaper business, whether it be reporter, or publisher of my own paper for 12 years before I went mostly blind, I could have used “Kent Clark,” the mild-mannered newspaper man, which was Superman’s alter ego. I joked with my Aunt Delvey that I always held a grudge against her for doing that to me.
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