don't wear it out

I remember vividly that the year I turned 14, suddenly it seemed as though all three-year-olds in spitting distance had my name. I'd be in the grocery store and I'd turn around every other minute because someone would be shouting it. Certainly, my name never did live up to the key reason my parents bestowed it to me - that it was unique. They always chalked up its popularity to the soap opera character with my name who was popular when I was a toddler. That and the fact that we moved into the heart of the Boston Irish when I was two. But there was a definite explosion around the late '80s, early '90s. All this to say, that instinct was confirmed for me today when it dawned on me that all those three year olds must be around 20 now. When I'm at the Starbucks where I hold my office hours (the Starbucks that used to be the Indiana Memorial Union Gallery, for those interested), one out of every five people waiting for some sort of coffee drink has my name. And as I sit there doing my work, I look up every few minutes wondering who's calling me.