three word names

Register-Guard - Eugene, Oregon

What do you do when someone you knew becomes a three word name? Your John Wayne Bobbit. Your Richard Lee McNair. How do you feel?

You feel numb and dirty and tingly.

It's the whole, "I didn't know he had it in him," thing. The neighbor on the local news station leaning over the fence, gumming his cigarette butt, saying, "I've known his ass fer years. Didn't know he was capable." I've got that kind of slack-jawed, wall-eyed shock coursing through me.

You just never hear someone's full name, unless you hear it uttered dispassionately. A story told to a friend who told a sister who told you. A story, a salient anecdote, with a name. A George Walker Bush kind of name. You've seen the guy in color ink. In black and white. You know the guy, but not really. Three word names aren't given to people you know.

Until they are.

And then you wonder who they ever were at all.