From day one it seemed like my parents were divided over my name. Well at least my first name because both of them shared the same last name before marriage. Each parent wanted me to be named after their dad. As a result, one side of the family calls me David and the other Andrew. By the time I was four, this division was complete and definitive by way of their divorce. As most children of divorce, I certainly felt divided and split in two; exemplified by my two different beds, two different sets of clothes, two different sets of toys and two different first names. 

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