March 5, 2014 Article

The Old Coot, “No speaka yo name!”
By Merlin Lessler

Not all the people I associate with are old coots. Some are in their 40’s or 50’s, though many are older than that. What’s my point? It’s that I converse with people that are young enough to have fully functioning memories. Yet, every single one is “name” challenged. It’s so bad they’ve almost entirely given up names and replaced them with elongated “people” descriptions.

“Who bought the brown house on Main Street,” someone will ask? – This is what you get in reply, “You know the big guy that works in the meat department at the Super Duper with the black VW convertible you see parked in the M & T lot on Friday night?” – “Yea, I know him!” – “His sister bought it.” That’s how we converse. It’s a small town thing. We know everything about everybody except their name. We don’t use names.

I guess it’s a habit that developed as a short cut. We got tired of saying Betsy Smith broke her leg at the ball game last week only to be asked, “Who is she?” And, then saying, “You know, the woman who used to live next to the library with the Great Dane.” Now, we skip the name and go right to the description. It’s an American Indian tradition. But, instead of descriptive names like Sitting Bull and Running Bear, we trot out complicated, descriptive substitutes in an attempt to precisely explain the “who” we are referring to.

This can get a little irritating, like when you overhear your own descriptive name. Besides “Old Coot” I’ve heard myself described as “That old guy who lives on the corner of Front Street that shut his coat in the car door, with his keys locked inside and had to stand in the cold like an idiot until a passerby noticed and went to his house to get a spare set of keys.” You then realize just how complicated this naming process has become. And, you have many more names than you imagined. In my case: That grouchy guy in the front window at the Goatboy Coffeebar – The guy who comes in here and never leaves a tip – That old guy who rides his bike through red lights.

If you have a common name, the shift to no name at all is a quick, two-stage process. First your name is coupled to a partial description and then disappears entirely. Take Mike, for example. There are 14 Mikes around here that I know of. Mike in the brick house on the curve – Mike the Irish music guy – Mike who sings in a barbershop quartet – Mike who can fix any plumbing problem, Mike, Mike, Mike. No Mike is ever, Mike. Not around here. Nancy is another name in widespread use. Lunch Lady Nancy – Nancy Fancy Pants - New Nancy – Jewelry Nancy – That Other Nancy. There’s Nick, Young Nick, Soccer Nick, Bank Nick. All lose their name in rapid fashion. Do you know your name? Maybe you should find out. Then again, maybe you don’t want to know.