The Linear Canvas

When I was born, my father insisted that I be named after his father, Alex (pronounced ell’-ick) Fisher, instead of him. Of course his real name was Alexander. When my father Gerald was born, his father had also insisted that he not be named after him. In both cases, my father and I were given the initial of their father as a middle name. Somehow later my father’s middle name was changed from just "A" to Denver, though not ever legally as far as know. I however, am still Alexander G Fisher.

When I turned sixteen, of course the first thing I did was take the test at the BMV to get my learners permit. I didn’t have a car and was just planning on buying one, driving my dad’s car, or something. Having my learners permit was something I had looked forward to for a long time.

I had seen the drivers license examiner many times. They had the testing in the American Legion hall for years. The hall was just a block from my school, so I had seen him outside having license applicants parallel park on several occasions. The examiner was an officious looking man who wore a blue police type uniform everyday. I had heard from others he was hard to deal with, but what I experienced that day was something I was totally unprepared for.

When I entered the hall I had to wait in line to get the test. During that time, I noticed the examiner was being mean to everyone. It just seemed like it didn’t matter to him whether you were white or black, rich or poor. He was an equal opportunity cranky jerk. He handed me my test without any incident. Then I went to a desk nearby and I completed the test. I had studied for the last two years, so I was certain that I had passed.

I took the test up to the examiner and he graded it. I believe I missed one question, but that still meant I had passed the test. I was very happy as I waited for him to finish grading and checking the form.

After grading the test, the examiner looked over the name and address section, stopped, looked up at me, and demanded to know my middle name. I responded that I had no middle name, just an initial. This did not make him very happy and he repeated his question two more times in an angry tone that was meant to intimidate me into submission. But I had no name to offer up to satisfy him, I could have told him Gerald, but that wasn’t true, according to my father. I didn’t want to go through life with that as my middle name, when it wasn’t.

The man grumbled something, gave me a stern look, and wrote something on the form. He handed it to me and made it clear that I should leave now before he really got mad.

I did not read the form until after I had gone to the license bureau and received my learners permit. What the examiner had done was, in the middle name box next to the G on the form, he had written (only), including the parenthesis. When the person processing the form at the license bureau typed it onto the learners permit, my name had become:

Alexander Gonly Fisher

I have always wondered whether sometime in the future someone might call or come to my door asking for Alexander Gonly Fisher. Hopefully it is not on my tombstone. Gerald doesn’t seem to be such a bad middle name in comparison.