It was a balmy August afternoon when I was born. I am sure that it wasn’t very eventful for anyone else who wasn’t in my family but to them it was a momentous occasion. It turns out my mother was golfing on the day of my birth in 85 degree weather, which surprisingly induces labor. So off to the hospital my parents went as they pondered what to name their child. My mother was in charge of figuring out my middle name and that was simple enough: her maiden name, Burton. However, my dad was more troubled with the task of the first name, since it is much more vital than the middle one. After going back and forth, he decided that he wanted it to be a saint’s name. After doing a little research, he decided on Michael, the chief adversary against the devil and fallen angels. Not a small task by any stretch of the imagination. I am not exactly sure why he chose this name and perhaps it will be a fruitful discussion later in life. Nevertheless, I am proud of the name I was given and I take this challenge with honor as I look to try to mitigate some of the inequality in our world through my academic studies and co-curricular activities.