So picture this, I’m buying groceries for dinner (the usual cheese in a can and some expired crackers that were on sale), and I swipe my club card for the XTREME! savings.  The usual routine is for the clerk to glance at the receipt, declare the exact amount of my XTREME! savings topped off with a polite/bored “Thank you, Miss Nobeard.”  Sometimes I’ll get a “Mrs.” or even the occasional “Ms.,” but I never expected what happened today.  The clerk, perhaps out of nervousness or some type of learning disorder, simply said,

“Thank you, Nobeard.”

That’s it.  No “Miss.”  Not even a “Ms.”  Nothing!!!  She referred to me only by my last name, something that until now only angry coaches and my close male friends have done.  And suddenly I realized that in a matter of mere months I will cease to be any brand of Nobeard at all.  The name that I have gone by (exclusively in some circles) for so many years will no longer legally apply to me.  I looked at the cashier and gave her a sincere, creepy smile.  She wasn’t paying attention anymore, but I knew we had shared something speical that day.  I may not even change my name thanks to the callous wisdom of this jumpy employee.  Regardless, even if my new name will be unpronouncable to announcers at my wedding, graduation, Nobel-prize award ceremony or even to myself, I will always have a few friends and one very special (ed) cashier at Vons who will still know me simply as “Nobeard.”  Legal or not, that name is here to stay.