Bus!

a-bus a-bus a-bus.
another bus. another bus.

zella likes buses. i hold her on the corner of fillmore and california and we count buses. one, two, three, four, five, six, eleben.

she knows my name. i'm uncle zack. she says, 'i walk now' and takes off down the street in a hurried little waddle. eatin' some cookie. she's two. my niece zella is two.

our friend anita is in town so we all meet up for dinner. anita is more or less my aunt. she also, a few years ago, wrote a novel that's probably still on the best seller list. my sister recalls helping anita out years back and kidding, 'one day when you're famous...' which i guess is today. so it happens. and sometimes just like that. maybe i should try and find another agent.

i sent my editor at kitchensink a pitch. she liked it so i guess i'm writing again. a story about the meaning of names. what names mean linguistically and how having a particular name shapes you life. will being named zella make my niece a different girl than if she had been named rachel? do we grow into the names we're given?

if you have something you'd like to say about any of that, let me know. i'll be interviewing people for the article. people with hard names. people with common names. people who changed their names and people who never would.

how many of you know what your name means? my name, zack, is from zechariah. it means servant of God. my last name, i've been told, means "tailor of furs" in ukrainian. i think i'll try to confirm that.