My ma was overly immersed in her New England timestream, and dragged a batch of handles out of the old Testament for me and my sibs in the best Plymouth tradition. It served me in good stead and I saw no reason to cover it with another. One reason I enjoy it is that I am hardly ever confused with someone else because of our names, except that guy who makes chocolate chip cookies,. When I was smaller, of course, I had to put up with jokers who had misplaced Andy Warhol, but then he died, and with people looking for sapphires and strange king-fisher birds, but I could usually provide them with an appropriate destination.

A