Amy Emerson

 

Your name is what?

 

³Anderson, Andree, Andrews, huhŠJames R.?  Arango, Arellano, ArmstrongŠ² Iım mumbling to myself as my finger quickly traces the neat line of names in the blindingly neon pink Southwestern University telephone directory.  By the time I make it to Baen, I realize that either I was absent the day they taught us the alphabet in kindergarten or Iıve somehow skipped over the name Jim Bob Andrews.  I retrace the list of names more slowly.  Although James R. is a close match, Iım definitely looking for someone else.  I guess if I want my question answered Iıll just have to find him myself.

***

³Iım a Texan, but I wasnıt born in Texas.  Iım from Houston, but I donıt really live Œinı Houston. I live in Cypress Falls.  My name is James Robert, but I usually introduce myself as Jim, and almost always go by Jim Bob.²

As I sit on the muted colors of the plaid couch in Lord Center Apartment 103, itıs clear that the lanky guy in the royal blue Phi Delt shirt sitting across from me is never going to be written into a neat package.  There are other indications as well. 

The shelves to my left are a great example.  Perched on the top next to the green San Gabriel River road sign that probably wasnıt a donation from the City of Georgetown are three empty bottles.  Iım sure Jack Daniels, Beefeater, and Sauza could tell me some pretty interesting stories about Mr. Andrews. 

The next shelf down simply solidifies my assumptions about the former.  Besides the various pint glasses ­ add beer to that list of liquors ­ there is a pitcher with the crest of the fraternity that Jim Bob belongs to, Phi Delta Theta. 

Then there is shelf number three, which could be accompanied by the Sesame Street tune ³One of These Things Is Not Like the Other.²  Neatly lined up on this shelf are various books.  No, they are not bartending books or dust catchers.  They are books about politics, communication, and preparing for the LSAT.  I know these books have actually been read, because Jim Bob frequently carries on intelligent conversation about them in class.  The bookshelf is a reflection of Jim Bob.  He is one thing, but (yes, it is that word again) he is also another.

***

³Hi.  Iım Jim.²  Itıs the first day of an internship at Fullbright in Houston and James Robert Andrews is getting the tour and meeting some of his co-workers.

³I always introduce myself as Jim at work at first.  You know just because.²  Jimıs position as an intern makes him a peon at the law firm.  The people he meets might remember his dark brown hair and friendly smile, but chances are in two hours they will have forgotten an ordinary name like Jim.  But thatıs okay.  Jim Bob has an endless number of ways to help people remember him.  While the other interns that have gotten jobs because of their parents half-heartedly approach their work, Jim Bob works hard and people notice.   

³I take work really seriously.  When you get paid to do something you should give 110 percent.  Once Iıve done a good job, I tell people my name is really Jim Bob.  They usually have a little chuckle and then I tell them the story behind my name.²

***

On December 9, 1982 Jim Bob was born.  David and Carol Andrews bestowed their hefty 10 pound 15 ounce bundle of joy with the names of his two grandfathers. The combination produced the official sounding title James Robert.  His Uncle Ken quickly noticed the humor in the name and gave the baby his first nickname ­ Jim Bob.

***

Itıs inaccurate to think of Jim Bob as one of those names that just stuck.  James Robert has always decided what he will be called.  The Jim Bob of today is the product of an evolution of names.

  When he was young people called him Jimmy.  His clearly remembers the day in fourth grade when he put an end to that. 
            ³From now on,² he told the teacher, ³itıs just Jim.²

His parents still called him Jim Bob.  His sister, twelve years his junior, simply called him brother.  But to everyone else at Cy Falls, Jimmy became Jim Andrews for the rest of his life.

***

            I stop a random person in the McCombıs University center. 

            ³Do you know who Jim is?² I ask.

            ³Jim who?²

            That never happens when you ask someone if they know Jim Bob.  Plenty of people donıt know Jim Bob personally, but most at least recognize the name. Itıs not a coincidence that Mr. Andrews decided shortly after arriving at SU to start calling himself Jim Bob.  As a Political Science major and Communication minor he understands the importance of name recognition.  His name is not an accident.  It is a careful calculation.

 

***

³Hey, Jim Bob!  Whatıs happening?  I havenıt hung out with you in foreverŠOf course I am going to get wasted!² 

As I shout this over the noises of the surrounding party, I watch ten other people walk into the room who could have just had this exact same conversation with Jim Bob.  Somehow, heıs managed to make some kind of connection with an extraordinary number of people at Southwestern, which is just what he wants.

***

³I like to have tons of acquaintances, but not many close friends.  Itıs hard to do sometimes because not all people are like that.  They would rather have a lot of close friends.²

Despite the difficulties, Jim Bob seems to manage just fine.  Like any good net worker, he knows how to keep everyone fairly happy.  This involves everything from making the rounds at a party on the weekend to phoning and emailing various people during the week.  Itıs a lot of work, but itıs worth the pay off.  Whether he has more people to party with, or it helps him to get a better job, Jim understands the benefits of associations.

***

The party, an off campus affair of course, wears on, but for Jim Bob the night has barely started.  Later that night, I find him on the back porch watching people take turns shooting a bb gun at bushes behind the house.  As we fulfill our drunken nicotine addictions, Jim Bob finishes his beer.

³I bet somebody canıt shoot this beer can out of my hand.² 

Sure he knows it was a stupid idea, but at that moment it seemed great.

³I fucking can!² I shout.

Jim Bob marches away from the back porch and out into the darkness with his empty can.  His scream of last minute fear almost covers up the noise as the bb hits the aluminum.  He runs back to the porch and I know that I will be forever immortalized in one of Jim Bobıs fantastic, often frightening, yet nonetheless true stories.

Despite the night of partying, thereıs a very good chance that Jim Bob will do what he does most mornings.  Heıll get up at eight-thirty in the morning and eat breakfast.  While everyone else is sleeping off their hangovers, he will be ³getting shit done.²  Heıll eat lunch, go to class (he hardly ever misses), workout, work, study or do whatever is on his to do list for that particular day.  Maybe that night he will go to another party, maybe he will stay in and go to bed.

***

I finally find Jim Bob, or maybe he found me.  Either way, I have just one question that I really want answered.

  ³Why do you go by Jim Bob?²

³I like the duality of personality, the duality of man.²  

Authorıs Afterwards

 

I already knew Jim Bob before I wrote this story.  I think that although I was able to use some of my earlier experiences with him in my paper, in general it made interviewing him and writing about him much more difficult.

I conducted a total of three long interviews.  The first one was very informal, and I didnıt take any notes.  While I gathered a lot of really good information I barely used any of it in this paper.  The other two interviews were much more awkward.  Between being hesitant about asking someone who had made it clear they prefer to keep people on the acquaintance level and trying to get everything on paper, I think I lost a lot of the depth I achieved the first time.  I think in the future I will use a tape recorder and try not to write papers about people I know.

After all of the interviews were complete I transposed my notes.  In doing this I learned that it would have helped me to transpose them after each individual interview.  I think my questions would have gotten better and I would have been to narrow in on issues that in hindsight seemed important.

When I finally sat down to write the paper, I did a lot of staring at the computer screen, and at the picture of Jim Bob I taped up on my monitor for inspiration.  This was the most frustrating part of the assignment.  I had a general idea of where I wanted to go, but getting there seemed impossible.  I might as well have been doing a jigsaw puzzle upside down.  Iım still not sure exactly how this paper came together or whether it even conveys what I am trying to say.  All I can say is that once I started writing, it mostly came straight from my head.  I used my notes for really specific details, but for little else.

I think that this paper encompasses everything that I learned in this class.  In writing this paper I felt like gained the ability to interview and write about others.  More importantly, I was able to balance myself in the narrative in a way that makes it my piece about someone else.  Writing about Jim Bob was the most difficult of all my assignments, but in the end the most rewarding.   

  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your Name Is What?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Amy Emerson

Journalism

Bednar

November 5, 2002

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have neither given nor received aid on this assignment, nor have I seen anyone else do so.