So, you set yourself on a journey, a literary endeavor designed to evoke, to expose cultural logics that work for and against your interests by deploying yourself, by revealing your experiences in public, by telling a truth about this person who goes by the name of Ronald J. Pelias—the “J” for James, after my Uncle Jimmy who was never shy about celebrating life—this Ronald J. Pelias who uses this identity marker whenever he signs an official document or claims ownership to his written work, but who in all other circumstances prefers to be called Ron, not Ronnie, the name I associate with my childhood, a privileged childhood protected by loving parents who both lived their suburban lives into their nineties, and not Ronald, the designation I often hear from those often well-intentioned individuals who reach toward a familiarity we...

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