Monday - March 01, 2004
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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