His name, by any other name, might sound as sweet…

“Lola, I…”

“Stop” said Lola, as the blog was to begin. “Don’t say anything, before I ask you a question. A very important question, that will affect our relationship from this day forward. Are you ready for that?”

He just sat back in his chair and pondered the moment. “All right Lola, but when you get all melodramatic like that, I get a bit worried.”

“This is quite simple” she said, as if she had rehearsed it before. “What is your real name?” Short and to the point she thought, but she had been deceived before.

“Lola, my love. You know my name as well as I do! It’s B.” said by the man who-

“Stop!” she yelled, causing him to fall out of his chair and look lovingly into her eyes. “No beating around the bush, nor side conversations, or your usual whimsy. Just answer the question.”

“Gosh Lola. This kind of reminds me of the time when we first met each other. I had just gotten out of Healy High – that’s in Alaska, you know? and had gone on to better things! Well, unemployment lines and the like, but when I met you down at the old…

“You see. You are doing it again! Changing the subject. OK, let’s try another approach. What did your parents call you?”

“That’s easy. My mother called me Son, while my father would say, “Hey You There!” and a lot of other things, but we don’t need to hear that kind of language, now do we?”

“-but what was your name? Your real name. The name your parents Christened you, way back when in Healy…..Alaska?”

“My father used to say, and rightly so, I don’t care what you call me, as long as it isn’t late for dinner! My mother would laugh a bit, and look at the liquor cabinet suggesting that they made a nice after-breakfast drink, while my father said, “I..

“You are changing the subject again, and quite well, I must say” said Lola, or L. to her friends, while wondering just how many blogs they’d need to uncover the truth of the matter?

“Well, the man at the Conoco Gas Station, called me “Buddy” while the teachers at Healy High said, “That boy will never amount to much”. The preacher at our church told me we were all God’s Children, but some of them were to remain anonymous throughout their lives! My Aunt used to call me….”

“but did any of them really really know your real name?” asked Lola again, thinking that a double-really would jog his memory back back to the time that he-

“Gosh Lola. First a really really, then a back back. And a few paragraphs up, you said “Alaska” after Healy! You really know how to please a guy, don’t you?”

“Lets” began Lola again, while she bit her lip and hoped that the liquor cabinet still had her favorite drink, “The Healy Hoedown!”

“Let’s try again, shall we?”

“Whatever you say, L., which is what I used to call you when the Rodeo came into town, and your Bucking Bronco broke my Healy Heart in two! I remember telling my folks, “Mom, Dad. Put down your drinks for a moment and listen to this: I’ve met the woman of my dreams, and she…”

“but what, tell me what does this have to do with your name?” asked Lola as she put a cold compress on her forehead and dreamed once again of riding the rodeo circuit to….”

“Well the posters said, “Come and Experience L. the Wild and Unpredictable Rider from Points Unknown” – you see L. even then they didn’t know where you came from! Well I bought myself a ticket, and a cotton candy and sat down next to Mr Gabbro, who-

“Can’t you see that this is what I feared about broaching this subject, or any subject for that matter. You have a talent for derailing the most…

“but that came later, you know?” he said, remembering the time when she was the Engineer of the Anchorage Express, and derailing was…

“Focus, my young man. The Rodeo, OK?” said by the lovely young woman lying next to me, wondering when the alcohol would take her away to, to..

“Well, Mr Gabbro said, Where is that foxy-looking mother of yours tonight, while I replied, “Most likely with my father, or the mailman” which was a joke we had in our family as my hair wasn’t the same color as my fathers, but when the mailman came by, and my mother was wearing her

“The rodeo, OK?” asked L. whose eyelids were getting heavier and heavier.

“So Mr Gabbro said, Did you know that there is no such thing as Black Granite? It’s really Gabbro. Just like my name, you see?” but the bare-back rider with her hair flowing behind her, and the horse whinnying and all, distracted me such that I yelled out with the rest of the crowd, “Miss L. I think you are fabulous, which made you look directly into my eyes and say..

“Did she. I mean, did I ask your name?” asked L. who by now had awoken and was waiting for the end to the story, the blog and her drink, which was woefully in need of a pair of ice-cubes, or–

“Well yes!, she did” and afterwards when I told her my life story, and she told me of how she/you always had dreamed about having a Healy Man, we…

“I, she never said such a thing!” said by the woman who had forgotten the point of the story, but knew that even before the title came into existence.

“Well, you/she said, just Call me Lola, if you like, but just not late for dinner! which reminded me of my parents, and Healy High, and the fact that Mr Gabbro had eaten all of my cotton candy, then spilled my soda on my shoes, before he went looking for my mother or, one of her sisters.

I called out to him, “Sorry about that Mr Gabbro, but Mom is an only child! which led me back to-

“L. for Lola” she said at last. “My name is Lola.”

“Gosh Lola. I knew that from the start of this blog, but what did you want to ask me about, anyway?……



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