What's in a Name

I realize that you don’t know me. My name is Alfred Griffen. Well, that’s not my real name. They told me not to tell anyone my real name. They said that it would be safer if people didn’t know who I really am. Of course, you don’t know who “they” are. It doesn't make a difference anyway. They told me not to tell anyone who they are, either. In my line of work, secrecy is very important. It’s not really work. I’m not being paid. It’s just the right thing to do.

They told me that my new job was at the post office. I have had more dangerous jobs before. Like when I was a photo specialist. If you don’t think that’s dangerous, then that’s because you didn’t see the pictures I had to see. Burned in my eyes forever.

There was that one group of people who called me Andy. Andy Robbins. I don’t think I need to tell you that Andy is not my real name. Robbins isn’t my real last name. Neither is Griffen. I’m sure that you already knew that. My real name is, oh, wait. I forgot. I’m not supposed to tell you. So, you can just call me Alfred Robbins of Andy Griffen. Either one would be a good name. I don’t know. I’ll let you choose.

I remember that one town they had me staying in. The lady that took me there called me Randy. The gentleman that lived next door called me Mr. Edwards. Randy Edwards. I thought that that had a nice ring to it. But as with other times, something happened, and I had to move again. A new town and a new name. That’s how it always was with me. They claimed that it was my fault. I don’t see how. I don’t talk too much. Do I?

Oliver Ezra was my name in the big city. I can’t tell you which big city. Just that it was big. Despite being large, I normally stayed in a 5-block radius of my apartment. My job as a video surveillance officer was right across the street. They felt that it would be better if I had a job where I was not seen. As if anyone would remember me in a city with… Ok, that’s too much information. I can’t tell you the size of the city.

I really hate big cities. Large crowds scare me. Gretchen, the girl next door, had a crush on me. Women who have more muscles in their left shoulder than I have in my entire body scare me more than large crowds. I guess that I should not have used her name. Maybe that’s not her real name. Maybe I do talk too much.

Neil Norman was the name I was given in a small farming town in North... wait. Maybe that was South. No problem. I can’t tell you where it was anyway. You know, maybe I do talk too much. Every time I open my mouth, they move me to a new town. Sooner or later, they are going to run out of towns to put me in. I’ve been to all 52 states. Oh, 2 of those were not states. But they are still part of the United States.

I don’t think that anyone has ever moved around more than I have. I’ve lived in more towns than years I have been alive. Oh, well. Here they come again. I know those cars from anywhere. I knew that this story might get me in trouble. I only mentioned 5 of the 20 plus names I’ve been given. What’s in a name anyway. A tulip made to look like a rose would still smell sweet.