What Is Your Name?

A man is seen walking through a neighborhood of mixed feelings, tall trees waving at the side-walks in various states of disrepair. He stops as a neighbor digs weeds from around a small tree.

Welby smiles and speaks to the man:

“I really admire the way you keep your property.”

“The man smiles behind a kind face with a greying short beard, “I love to work in the yard!”

“It is apparent…I am Welby, (extending his hand) I live on 9th Street.”

The man removing his gloved hand, takes that of Welby…”What did you say your name was?”

“It’s Welby…an old Irish family name.”

“My wife is Irish.”

“Sorry,” laughing.

“Are you Irish?”

“Well, yes…Irish/American.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“It’s Welby…I live around the corner from you.”

“Oh, that’s nice…I am Wayne and I live here with my wife.”

“What is her name?”

“Who?”

“Your wife who lives here with you.”

“Yes, O’Neida.”

“A real Irish name” He said “Do you know what the Irish have to say about children with the surname ‘O’”?

“She told me once, and it just will not come to me in this senior moment.” He laughs.

“Know them well, Wayne! But in Irish, the surname, ‘O’ means, ‘she knows’!”

“Well, that certainly fits my wife.”

She appears: A short woman who is true to her Irish calling to the dinner table, she has white short hair and a genuine smile.

“Wayne, your dinner is ready.”

“Oh, Ok…this is.” He pauses looking at the man, “What did you say your name was?”

“Hello, I am Welby, your neighbor.” Half shouting to the woman standing at the front door.

“O’Neida.” She smiles, “I have seen you walking past the house nightly.”

“Ok, well nice meeting you folks, I must get on around the neighborhood, I have traps to check,” he laughs.

“Are you a trapper?” Wayne looks at Welby with a childlike simplicity.

“No, Wayne, just an old saying from my days as a thoroughbred horse trainer.”

“So, you trapped horses?”

O”Neida, smiling but nervously shuffles…”Wayne, darling won’t you please put up your hoe and come to eat your soup before it gets cold.”

“Do you want some soup?” Wayne ask.

“I always have room for a homemade cup of soup…but I don’t want to intrude.” He looks at O’Neida.

“You know how soup is…it always seems to grow out of hand.” She laughs, “There is plenty.”

“I’ll just put up my hoe and gloves and I can finish my gardening later.” Wayne says.

“ Yes, Wayne dear…please put up the hoe…” (and to Welby) “Come on in Welby, where is it you live?”

“I live at 415 NW 9th Street, between Peacock and Richmond Avenue”

“Ok, I think I know about where you live. Are you close to Catherine Simpson?”

“Catherine lives three doors from me.”

“How about Marge Moore?”

Sure, lady with the two Bull Dogs?”

O’Neida laughing, “They are so sweet, making me always think of Winston Churchill.”

“I thought he had Pugs?”

“No, I believe that was his personality.” Laughing as she directs Welby to a chair in the kitchen and prepares a bowl of Irish stew for him.

Wayne appears and goes to the sink to wash his hands.

“Wayne, darling…remember, we do not wash hands in the kitchen.”

“Sorry,” he kisses her on forehead. “Too many Germans.” They laugh.

“I am Scandanavian,” Wayne says, “but I speak Russian. Invinite, kak vas zovut?”

O’Neida Laughing loudly and pointing to Wayne. “Shame on you Wayne, Welby probably thinks this is a strange place.”“On the contrary, it is a very pleasant change from the quiet at my house.”“So you live alone?”“Yes, my bride of forty-seven years past eleven years ago.”“Sorry, but” Wayne places his hand on shoulder of Welby

 “What is your name?”