Monday - March 01, 2004

Category Image What's Your Name?


Changing gears here. I'm not sure I should post this. I just feel like it.

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I looked the man in the eye and wasn't sure about him. He had a friendly look, but you couldn't always rely on that.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

I decided to not answer for now, I wanted to examine him a little longer. Besides, his question seemed a bit nosey.

I stood eye to eye with him and waited to see how he would act if I didn't answer.

"Tell him your name, dear." Oh, yes, my mother was next to me. I kept my hand wrapped around her finger, it made her feel better when I did that for some reason. She always wanted to know where I was, especially when we went to town, and so I obliged her because I liked her and wanted her to feel comfortable with me.

But now she was interrupting my analysis of this man's behavior. How could I determine his character if she kept interrupting like that?

"His name is William. Say 'William.'"

I was too inexperienced in the manners and customs of society to understand that he didn't really care what my name was, nor did my mother care if he knew. The point of this ritual was to demonstrate that I could say my name and to exchange pleasantries. I was always slow in these matters of etiquette. Besides, I knew that I could say my name, and my mother knew I could say my name, it wasn't a new thing for me at all. Why should I care if this stranger knew if I could say my name?

"Sometimes he's shy," my mother lied. "Come on William, tell him your name."

I really didn't get the point. She's told him my name three times already, if he hasn't learned it by now, my telling him isn't going to help.

"Say 'William'"

Confused, I turned to my mother and wanted to ask her why she told this man my name when I was the one being asked and I hadn't decided to tell him yet. But the man was there and I didn't want to confront my mother in front of this stranger. And how was I supposed to explain my perplexity at this young age? I must have looked agitated because now my mother stooped down. Now we were all eye level together.

"How old are you?" the man asked me.

A different question, but now I've decided that I don't need to reply because my mother will inform him for me. I waited patiently for her to tell him and eventually she did, and then they started talking about other things.

I suppose my mother was mildly disappointed that I failed this test of social skills, but I didn't know I was being tested or I would have known what to do. It wasn't shyness that caused me to fail. I failed because I was laconic, a subtlety that was lost on them at the time.

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