Diaphora (di-a’-pho-ra): Repetition of a common name so as to perform two logical functions: to designate an individual and to signify the qualities connoted by that individual’s name or title.
They worked for Red Cross as a husband and wife team. People called them “The Saviors.” In the aftermath of fires, earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes, and flooding, all around the world they were there, providing first aid, distributing food and clothing, and when they could, counseling the bereaved. Pakistan. Tibet. Afghanistan, Thailand, California, Florida, Hawaii and other places too numerous to list, Mike and Carla saved the day.
Somewhere along the way, Carla became pregnant. She had their child in Bangkok, a little girl born with shiny black hair. They took a 6-month leave of absence and then took off for Africa to distribute food in the face of severe famine. They left their daughter with her grandmother, her mother’s mother.
They had named their daughter “Charity” after what they believed was the supreme virtue, and a virtue that drove their lives. The Christian Apostle Paul believed that charity (caritas) is a kind of love that is patient, kind, and immoveable. He also believed that charity is the most important of the three Christian virtues, the other two being faith and hope. Mike and Carla hoped that every time Charity heard her name, she would somehow subconsciously feel the influence of love and walk on charity’s path. They knew it was a wild hope, but they hoped it anyway.
They were gone for six years “saving the world” and had to come home after Mike’s malaria got the best of him, especially in combination with his tuberculosis and elephantiasis testicles. They flew into JFK from Belize where they were helping with an inoculation program to combat a polio epidemic.
When they came through Customs, Charity was waiting there with her grandmother. She was wearing a Halloween costume. She was dressed as Satan. Her parents slowly made their way to her. Mike’s testicular elephantiasis slowed him down. In fact, he could barely walk. Carla cried “Charity! My dear little Charity!” Little Charity shook her Devil’s pitchfork and yelled “Here’s your charity you poo-poo parents!” Right then Mike and Carla’s hope was dashed, that naming their daughter “Charity” would help make her a more loving person. Charity was the opposite of what they hoped. It turned out she was petty, cruel, and unlikeable. Charity laughed diabolically at her father’s testicular limp and threw grape soda in her mother’s face.
Charity was a walking talking hell.
Three year’s went by and nothing got better. In elementary school, charity was expelled for encouraging her classmates to run with scissors with their pointed ends facing up. In middle school, she stole the Principal’s car and drove it into a lake. She was expelled. In high school she blackmailed her history teacher for having an affair with her. She was convicted of blackmail and spent three months in the Silver Lining Juvenile Detention Center.
Of course, with all the expulsions she was home-schooled. In each case, she burned the course materials and told her parents to “fu*k” themselves. She started calling her father “Thunder Balls” and took delight in taping signs on his back that said: “Thunder Balls: Do Not Touch.” At this point Mike’s testicles were the size of volleyballs and he was expected to die in three months. Carla would sit sobbing in her living room chair, lamenting her poor parenting, leaving her with her mother whose bi-polar disorder probably made things hard for Charity.
When her father died, Charity moved away. She got a job as a bill collector—drubbing pitiful lowlife people on the phone. She loved calling them names and threatening to send thugs to their homes to beat them, or even kill them. She brought in what were considered uncollectible debts and made “Drubber of the Month” almost every month. Her rude and cruel fellow employees loved and hated her at the same time. That was fine with Charity. She was into bondage, so the blend of love and hate pleased her.
POSTSCRIPT
Charity hadn’t turned out like her parents hoped when they named her. It was foolish of them to believe Charity would be charitable because she was named Charity.
Name your children after their ancestors for their memory, not for inspiration. Wait for your children’s nicknames to indicate who they are. Charity’s nickname was “Scumbag.”
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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