Kelly Lytle's Stories
When we see you
Hi, my name is... William? (and how I learned my first name)
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Hi, my name is... William? (and how I learned my first name)

This is the story of when I learned my name. It happened when I was 6. 

But before we get into the story, here are 7 things that happened before I learned my name: 

  1. Taking two stints to graduate pre-school

  2. Getting benched in tee-ball after coach put me on first base and instead of trying to catch the ball or even use my mitt at all, I just let the ball smack me in the nose twice - on back-to-back plays - when thrown at me

  3. Not being able to do a jumping jack or ride a bicycle

  4. Seeing Beetlejuice at Paramount Cinemas in Fremont somewhere between two and nine times

  5. Sobbing in that same theater and curling into Dad’s arms when Optimus Prime died during the original Transformers 

  6. Playing Voltron with Dad on a Saturday afternoon and jabbing him in the eye with one of the pieces. For two weeks, Dad wore an eye patch and a scowl and never gave up the claim he had won the battle

  7. Stealing my sister’s yellow, plastic Fisher-Price purse. And carrying it everywhere... along with a clown doll my family called Clownie.

P & Me. Pre-Quarantine. Date Night.

Mom and Dad named me William Kelly after Grandpa Lytle. 

And in August 1988 I arrived for the afternoon session of my first day at St. Joe’s Kindergarten - blonde hair in a bowl cut; pasty arms dangling from a light blue, short-sleeve button-down shirt; dark blue slacks; and knowing my name was Kelly because, like Grandpa, that’s what I always went by. 

Inside our classroom was a fake Christmas tree. And from the tree hung brown, construction paper ornaments. Each ornament had the name of one student on it. 

The teacher told us that when we tied our shoes or counted to ten or took a nap on schedule we’d get a “star” or “good job” sticker to place on our name card. 

I remember being really…. really…. excited about this. 

And I remember being immediately ready to compete for these stickers. Like looking around the room and sizing up my kindergarten classmates as if they’re f*****g threats ready. 

So, later in day one - or maybe day two - I earned my first sticker for something I’ve long ago forgotten. And I placed that sticker on the tip of my right index finger and strode like a champ up to the tree. I moved in a slow circle around it hunting my name.

I searched…. and searched.

I hunted…. and hunted.

And, in the end, I struck the f**k out. Because none of the cards had my name on them. 

Then, one-by-one all the other kids started coming up with their stickers. They’d find their ornaments immediately. Decorate them with their stickers. Smile at me. And sit down to do a puzzle or drink chocolate milk or whatever.

There’s one kid I’ll never forget.

He came up to the tree. Found his name right away. Placed his sticker on his card perfectly. Started walking away. Stopped. Turned. Hit me with me a double-eyebrow raise plus a smile. Turned away again. And strutted to his seat.

This a**hat was all I could take.

My chest started heaving. I felt my face go all red. Breaths getting hard to come by. I looked around the room. Everyone was smiling. Most were laughing. So I panicked. And hid as best I could behind the tree. And then let loose with the tears. 

Sister Maria came over. Asked what was wrong. 

“Everyone has a card but me!” 

I buried my head into the polyester of her nun-gown. She patted my blonde head. Said she was sure everyone had a card. Said she’d help me find mine. 

“Okay,” I said.

She traced the tree. 

“Here you are!” Sister Maria said smiling. 

I wiped snot from my nose with the back of my hand. Scurried around the tree to her.

“Where?” I asked.

“Right there,” she pointed at one of the ornaments. 

I stretched my head closer to the cards. Turned back to look at her. 

“Where?” I asked again. 

Sister Maria moved her finger closer to the card. 

I recognized the last name on the card, but had never seen the first. I backed away from the tree.

“That’s not my name,” I said. 

“Yes it is. It says William. William Lytle. That’s your name.”

“No it’s not,” I said. “My name is Kelly. I don’t know who William is.” 

Sister Maria glanced at the card. Then down at me. She smiled a smile of comfort and amusement. 

“Pretty sure your name is William, too.”

“Huh?” I said.

Friends- Now you know how I learned my name is William. 

We love you. 

And we’ll see you when we see you.

Grandmaster E & me. Notice the purse. And the socks.

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Kelly Lytle's Stories
When we see you
A place to slow down and experience life's moments through short stories about (mostly) real events.
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