The name that can be named is not the eternal name.
"And you are?"The woman in the horn-rimmed glasses is not happy with her job.
"Jim. Jim Schmidt,"I blurt out.
"OK, Mr. Smith. You sit over there until your name is called."My eyes follow the line drawn by her finger to a worn collection of folding chairs at the back of the room.
I join the others. No one wants to speak. I stare at the floor for thirty minutes.
"Mr. Smith! Jim Smith!-
"It's Schmidt,"I say to anyone who wants to hear.