Hi! My name is Kenneth. I’m guessing I had a different name in heaven, but I can’t remember what it was. So here, I am happy to be known as Kenneth. My family calls me Kenneth. My friends call me Kenneth. You can call me Kenneth. I’ve introduced myself as Ken only twice in my life…and that was on two separate occasions to two beautiful girls named Barbie. :) Other than that, it’s always been Kenneth. Funny, though…we have a tendency as humans to want to shorten names. I admit, I’ve been guilty of this. It feels more intimate to us, more friendly. But, for some reason, Kenneth feels more intimate to me. While growing up, it’s what my parents always called me, and I guess it stuck. I have introduced myself as Kenneth all of my life (other than the two times I previously mentioned), and I don’t remember it ever being a problem…until I moved to Utah for my senior year of high school. “Hi, I’m Kenneth,” I would say. “Nice to meet you, Ken.” This happened over and over again. After several months of this, I finally quit trying to correct people. It felt too self-absorbed, too bothersome. Since then, I’ve answered to whatever people call me…Ken, Kevin, Keith, even Brother Cope…but I prefer Kenneth. Hey, I suppose you can be glad I don’t say: “Hi! My name is Kenneth. My friends call me Kenneth. You can call me Ken.” :)