What’s In a Name?
Jack Caldwell is an ordinary name for an ordinary person. I can work and make this name into a name of acclaim and transform my ordinary self into an extraordinary person. With hard work and perseverance, I have been told anyone can achieve this. It is this well-trodden path that many people choose, to make their name of acclaim.
Do I want to join the jostling crowd clawing their way to an inevitable end, no my friend. I do not want to look back down the steep, rugged trail to see a joyless journey. I would rather sing and dance, love and romance, in tune with the song of a bird. Painting a picture of contentment I can then depart without resentment.
To make a name for myself I will use imagination and make my own name by lateral thinking. From all the heroes of the past the name I choose must outlast, withstanding the test of time, a name outstanding, and sublime. I have the phone book in my grasp but all the names appear ordinary. No name that rings a bell that will resound to waken everyone around, a peal that is appealing bringing forth a joyous feeling. This name must chime throughout the land a name so wondrous and grand.
I will graffiti my words, every place one must visit, and sign my signature for all to see, so everyone will remember me. Words of wisdom I will write, you will recall them late at night, to fill your dreams of wondrous things. I will paint my way every day, in every alley and walkway. Signing my name for all to see and you will remember me, for my pictures and calligraphy. As I travel far and wide my music will be heard it will inspire happiness and dance. I will sing and play my ukulele, when you hear my music, you will give credit to my pseudonym, and say Sam Baroo the incredible, plain Jack will be forgotten. There will be no ‘play it again Sam’.
Without a self I will have no ego, no driving force to goad me on, I will live in peace and contentment. Let Sam Baroo take all the credit. His fame will not be ever lasting time conquers all in passing and nothing is permanent.
Stand centre stage Sam ‘as you like it’ take your bows while Jack stands in the wings enjoying the performance. “All the worlds a stage”, said Jack. Sam’s teeth, Sam’s eyes, Sam’s everything.
A new type of rose could be called Sam Baroo. I wonder how many varieties of roses there were in Shakespeare days. It sounds like they all had the same sweet smell, but one named Montague was a problem;
Juliet had no aversion, “Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. “What’s Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man.”
This prompts me to say, “Where does that leave you Sam Baroo?”
Juliet would say, “O, be some other name! What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet;”