Give me a name, any name.

I was writing some fiction and needed a full name for an idiot attorney. I didn’t want to upset someone who might be a good attorney by choosing his or her name for ridicule. So, I Googled names, ridiculous names, and I got hits each time. My response each time: who would name their kid that?

In essence, all names have been taken. This exercise led me to recall a “cool name” I used in an unpublished short story decades ago: Skyler Brazil. He existed. I met him. And his braggadacio was remarkable. I constantly thought: how can he be boasting like this with a straight face?

Mr. Brazil was a skilled truck driver. He worked for a major moving company, hauling furniture across the country. I was a local mover, so I only met him once on a muggy day in New Jersey. He wore one of those leather belts with an oversized metal buckle and constantly combed his slick and thick dark hair–he had one of those hairlines that starts just above the eyebrows.

He told me he dated Marilyn Monroe who had died two years earlier.His driving partner who went by “Lefty” or something like that, confirmed that Skyler Brazil dated stars and had women in all 48 states–they didn’t drive to Hawaii or Alaska. Brazil  got three phone calls at the house (cell phones hadn’t been invented yet) we were moving furniture into–he explained that he had two dates “in the city” (Manhattan) and was figuring out which one to keep. And while he was doing this, the “client”, an attractive woman, was offering to make him a cocktail at 4 p.m.

When we were finished unloading the furniture, Brazil told Lefty and me to wait in the truck while he did the proverbial “paperwork.” He was gone a very long time.

I Googled “Skyler Brazil” today and found that the name is all over the country.

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