This is it! The beginning! I’ve heard so much lately about all this “blogging” and finally decided it would be a good idea to jump in and do it. Not so much to drone on about myself, but to introduce ya’ll to the wonderful people and organizations that I care about! And… it wouldn’t hurt to tell you what I’ve got going on, ‘cause it’s always something. As this is the first, however, I suppose I should tell you a little about myself.
The first question people usually ask after I’ve introduced myself is: where’d you get your name? It will come in the form of the actual question or one similar: “Is that your real name?” “Is that a nick name?” or just, “Tink?” It may also come in the form of a quizzical look or raised eyebrow, followed by a polite smile, then acceptance. Tink. Yep, Tink, like…Tinkerbell; yes, it rhymes with Stink; or my favorite, “Tink, like the sound of metal on metal!” Not to be confused, however, with Tank, Tonk, Donk, Dink or Ping, which are all names that my wife’s co-workers have called me after she told them who she was married to.
The name was not my choice, but given to me by my father. It was actually my grandfather’s nickname during WWII. He served as an electrical engineer and was always tinkering with gadgets and wires. With the last name Pinkard, Tink Pink was a good fit. So it was born…and then I followed some years later. Having heard the story of the name all his life, my father loved it and it’s meaning and wanted to pass it on to his first born, a la, me. My mother, however, was a little hesitant at the idea about having a bouncing baby boy named Tink, and insisted that I be given a “proper” name. Christopher (after my father Chris) James (after my grandfather Jim) Pinkard is what titles my birth certificate. My name, however, and one that everyone knows and has called me since birth, is Tink.
So now that you know the full story, it should make a little more sense. After you meet me in person and swap a few stories, it makes perfect sense and just seems natural. If you heard someone refer to me as “Chris,” or “Christopher,” you would raise your eyebrow, give them a quizzical look, or simply say, “Chris?” What’s in a name after all? Sometimes a lot more than meets the eye.