Back in January we talked about first names, which reminded me that names can be a strange thing. They can shape how people see you… and sometimes how you see yourself.
My middle name is Blaine.
As far as I know, there’s no deep historical meaning behind it. No long family tradition. No great-uncle Blaine who stormed the beaches of Normandy or invented the toaster oven.
Honestly, it feels like Mom just pulled it out of a hat. Sort of like Bullwinkle pulling a rabbit out of his hat—except instead of a rabbit or a lion, she pulled out Blaine. To be fair, Mom liked names that sounded nice. She wanted something pleasant.
My dad, on the other hand, reportedly had a different idea. He wanted Brick.
Same first letter. Completely different energy.
Think about it: Brick DeBolt. You hear a name like that and you assume the guy either plays linebacker or owns a motorcycle repair shop. Either way, you probably don’t mess with him.
If I’d been named Brick, I might have leaned into it. I could picture introducing myself that way.
“Name’s Brick.”
You wouldn’t even need a last name.
Instead, I got Blaine. Now, Blaine isn’t a terrible name. But it doesn’t exactly project menace. It doesn’t suggest a guy who breaks up bar fights or intimidates playground bullies.
It sounds more like the kid who sneaks into the paste supply and eats it when nobody’s looking.
For the record, I never ate paste.
But I will admit something the grown-up version of me understands a lot better now than the kid version did.
Middle school can be brutal.
Not long ago I came across something I wrote in eighth grade. A little note to myself about some guys who had spent that year calling me “gay boy” and other names I won’t repeat here.
Kids can be cruel in ways they don’t even understand yet.
Looking back, part of me wonders if a name like Brick would have helped. Probably not. A name alone doesn’t stop bullies. But the kid I was back then sometimes wished he had just a little more armor. Or at least something that sounded like armor.
Still, life turned out fine for Douglas Blaine DeBolt. I never became Brick. I never punched anyone in the nose. And I never ate paste. But I did eventually grow into my own name.
And that turned out to be more than enough
Copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt.
