Free Chester Fields by Charles Kohlberg

Chester Fields
    “That’s nice of you to say Chester; I’ll do my best to maintain your trust. You have my trust as well, and I intend to give you the benefit of the doubt at every turn.”
    “Thanks Doctor Stanley”, Chester replied. “I’ve been looking forward to our talk since we met yesterday.”
    “Good to hear Chester; and feel free to call me Rich, okay?  Now; though I am anxious to hear everything you have to say about this past week, I think it’d be good if we got to know each other a little better first.” I felt like I was off to a good start with this patient. As I normally do, I told him about myself first. “I’m from Manson, Connecticut. I grew up there and still live there today. I’ve been married twelve years to my wife, Ruth, and we are planning to start a family in the very near future. I’m not much of a sports fan; I like chess, running, and classical music.” Chester was courteous when I spoke and from there went straight into his story.
    “I’ve often wondered if being given the name of Chester Fields was to insure I grew up with both a good sense of humor and a thick hide,” He began. “What other possible reason could my parents have had for choosing that name? I’ll never know. I mean “Fields” would be an alright last name with almost anything other than Chester . I don’t know if you’re aware, but I can’t ask them about it. In fact, I don’t even remember them anymore. They both died when I was four. I’ve been raised by my Aunt Lisa and Uncle Stan; Katz. They’re from my mother’s side of the family, and though I still call them Aunt Lisa and Uncle Stan, they’re the only parents I ever knew, or I should say remember. They either haven’t been able to, or willing to, tell me why I was given this name; I’ve never been quite sure which. And, as best as I could ever tell, they’ve never been able to relate to any of my other problems either. You know, as parents, they weren’t ever really mean or nasty to me, but at the same time it was apparent, to me at least, that they didn’t take any joy in raising me either. It was like doing the dishes. They didn’t complain, but just did ‘em, cos’ they had to be done. But crap man, my name is the same as a brand of cigarettes! To me it’s like, how could you not know that’s going to make life difficult for a kid? Still, everyone in my family acted like they didn’t understand! And they wouldn’t under any circumstances, let me change or even use another name either. They said that would be disrespectful to my parents.
    As I’m sure you know; in school, kids can be cruel. As soon as one person found out my name was the same as a brand of cigarettes, the word spread quickly. And, the fact that my last name differed from my so-called ‘parents’ name, somehow became another reason to pick on me. I realize that those may not sound like very good reasons to abuse someone, and I would agree; but they’re pretty much the only reasons anyone ever gave me. I’ve come to think that some people have a certain intangible, and I’m one of them. I don’t know exactly what it is, but this intangible; is a certain something that makes people dislike me.”
    I made a quick note about this. I may have to dig a little deeper here. Sometimes people alienate themselves purposely. They put up walls and close out the world in fear of rejection thereby having the same end result as if there really was something not to like. But it wasn’t time to interrupt him; I could see he was just getting warmed up.
    Chester went on, “It seemed like my family and the few friends I had were always telling me the teasing would stop soon; because we were all getting older, and everyone’s getting more mature, etc., but through the years it only ever got worse. All the way through grammar school, junior high, and now high school it steadily worsened. I realize it’s at least partially my fault because I never stood up to them. But that