Was “Richard” Already Taken?

My mom is pregnant with my baby brother. I am nine at the time.

Me: “So, what’re you going to name him?”

Mom: *Proudly* “Dick.”

Me: “As in… D-I-C-K?”

She nods.

Me: “Um… Mom, are you sure?”

Mom: “Yes.”

Me: “I don’t think that’s a good name. You know what it means, right?”

English isn’t her first language, and Mom is very proper.

Mom: “All I know is that it’s your father’s name.”

Me: “Well… but it’s slang in English for… a you-know-what.”

I point to indicate.

Mom: “Stop being so vulgar! Where did you hear such things? It doesn’t!”

Me: “Mom, I swear it does! He’ll be teased.”

She shushed me and went on to give birth happily. Predictably, he was teased by his classmates and peers, was bullied, and had few friends. Mom ended up divorcing my dad and lamented forever that she named her kid after him. My brother now goes by his middle name.