Another Preface
re: The Question of Name
Just to get these things out of the way, let me begin by explaining a bit about why I call myself Theric. Actually, I don’t call myself Theric (anymore). Not much, anyway. I invented the name in response to my first semester at BYU. That semester produced at least three Erics for every class I took and over a half-dozen in the BYU 56th Ward.
There being other Erics was not exactly a new problem for me; in fact, my brother had a friend in elementary school name Erik Jepson. (Interesting anecdote: When that Erik and my brother were in 7th grade, through some unfathomable error, my 11th grade photo sneaked into the junior high yearbook in place of his. As far as I know, he has yet to forgive me. End of interesting anecdote.) But this time I sensed an opportunity to have a name I wouldn’t have to share, Theric! (Granted, I had tried a different name before, but for clarity, that was even worse than Eric. Ever been at a zone conference where someone yells out, “Hey Elder!”? I have.)
Secretly, in high school, I occasionally wished my name was something extraordinarily unique. I planned to give my sons such distinct names as Artaxerxes and Giogionni. Aren’t those great names? (If you think so, please write my wife and tell her.) Not that Eric isn’t cool; I love my name. But I’d had it all my life and I wanted to try a new one. (Hey—other cultures get a new name at adulthood—why not us?) And Theric was it.1
When I came home from my mission, I had a crisis: I didn't feel like Eric but was no longer Elder. I needed a name. I suggested The Amazing. It never caught on.
Somewhere along the line, The Amazing became Th’mazing; Th’mazing (through some inexplicable process) became Th’em, but Th’em was too hard to explain: “Right, it does look like ‘them’, but it’s a different T-H sound. More like ‘thumb’. It’s ‘thumb’, but with an eh instead of an uh.” It was a hopeless cause.
By Fall ‘99 however, I had a new name: Theric. The timing was perfect—few people knew me—and so I advertised it heavily, always introducing myself as Theric Jepson. “No, no, the roll’s not wrong, it’s just not what I go by.” Ironically, there was not another Eric in any of my classes that semester. But that was okay—I enjoyed being Theric. People remembered Theric much more easily than they had ever remembered Eric. And besides, although everyone knew that wack Theric, the people who really mattered still knew my true identity.
And there was the crutch: Theric was really, inside, mild-mannered Eric. Theric is a stage name you see, nothing more. Theric is just an aspect of me, not the whole me. (And although we could have an interesting discussion on identity right now, I know that’s not what you bought the book for, I know, I know. Don’t worry. I’m coming to Nauvoo. Skip ahead, if you prefer. Not everyone reads intros and prefaces, you know.)
Shortly into my Nauvoo experience, I wanted to stop being Theric. After all, everyone in the program had become a friend—almost family! (And besides, no other Erics.) But it was too late.
“You’ll always be Theric to me.”
“I can’t imagine you as an Eric.”
“You are Theric.”
And so I remain to those who first knew me by that name. I called my Nauvoo friend Jeff the other day, and introduced myself as Eric. He had no idea who I was. “Don’t you ever do that again!” he told me. I’ve tried not to.
Greg, our student president at the JSA, saw through it. He’s a very perceptive guy that Greg. And realizing that I no longer needed to be Theric, tried calling me Eric. But it was too late. In Nauvoo, I’ll always be Theric. That’s fine though—Theric, in a lot of ways, is a distillation of my craziness and my virtues. He’s a little bit nuttier and a little more people-oriented. I love Theric—I’m happy to have been Theric and suspect I always will be. And that’s why the name on this book is Theric—Theric lived in Nauvoo; he’s probably the one who wrote the book.
[ill of me waving captioned “Theric”]
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Thanks for revisiting Nauvoo with me. I would love to hear your thoughts.