\u201cMike\u2019s in the hospital,\u201d someone said at coffee the other day. Actually, it was eight months ago, but to an old coot it\u2019s just the other day. \u201cMike who,\u201d someone else asked? There are three Mikes in regular attendance at our gatherings and one infrequent Mike. A few years ago another Mike showed up with infrequent Mike and we had five Mikes on the patio outside Starbucks. <\/p>\n
It makes my head spin \u2013 Mike is heading down the road tomorrow – Mike is buying a building lot – Mike says the price of real estate is going through the roof. Mike! Mike! Mike! Who is doing what? We had to alter the name of the three regular Mikes to put an end to the confusion. We have: Turnpike Mike (he travels a lot), Michael, instead of Mike, and Mark-Mike, so called because his neighbor always called him Mark and he never corrected him. <\/p>\n
\u201cHow could you not correct him,\u201d someone asked. I think it was Alan. I know it wasn\u2019t me because I understood completely. I had a next-door neighbor who called me Norm. He did it a few times and I let it slip, so it became my name, to him. My mother often did the same thing, when she was livid because of something I did, like get grass stains on a new pair of plants. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNorm get in here this minute!\u201d One of her five brothers was a Norm, a younger brother who irked her when he was little. So, if I got her mad she forgot I was Merlin and called me Norm. <\/p>\n My son, who was seven at the time, resolved the situation with our neighbor. He told him, \u201cThat\u2019s not my dad\u2019s name; it\u2019s Merlin.\u201d The guy was embarrassed and apologized profusely. It didn\u2019t matter to me. I never was thrilled with my name anyway, and being called Norm was kind of nice. It reminded me of my mom.<\/p>\n