The Need For Silence



Posted: Monday, January 24, 2011

by Chris Cole
George Cole

Most of my friends would describe me as peculiar, or better yet, most recently, as bipolar...and the more I think about it, they are not really friends, but bitter strangers that are jealous of my proclivity in noticing others' nuances. I agree that I spend a lot of time observing other people and their traits....passersby, so to speak, but I am NOT bipolar! They are just envious at my latent Sherlock Holmes-like deductive reasoning and observations. It is truly difficult to walk in humility while possessing my God given talents, but I digress. Let me continue:

I have always known that I was different. Truly different. I never viewed myself as spectacular or better than the next person, but I know I am not like most. I am the one in a million person that changes your life after you bump into me at the grocery store all the while leaving you pondering why Oprah canceled her talk show, or you might find yourself wondering if you turned your stove off during our intellectually stimulated conversation.

After our discourse, you will find yourself breathing with apathy towards your newly founded state of time management and how to utilize every minute of your time.
Though, my name has plagued me all of my natural existence. I questioned my parents naming ability on numerous occasions to no avail. My birth name is spelled Zxykklnt779. It is pronounced with all letters and numbers silent, with an accent on the number nine.

My name has caused me a lot of problems I have to admit. When my parents called me to the dinner table I never showed up because I did not hear their silent call. Needless, to say I went hungry during my adolescence. I have been accused of being conceited because I seem aloof due to not responding to my birth name.

I have given serious thought to legally changing my name to “Hey You,” or “Silent Name,” or just plain old “Zxykklnt7710.” changing the accent to the letter k. This way, my name would at least become audible sounding like the water in a flushed toilet followed by high pitched wailing.
George "Chris" Cole experienced life as a law enforcement officer with a tour of duty lasting over ten years in law enforcement. He is the survivor of two marriages, and continues to meet new people that provide inspiration for many of his articles and short stories. Many of his articles have appeared in national and local publications.

In 2008, Chris abandoned West Texas and its' "Wal-Mart Trees" (Mesquite bushes that grow plastic bags) to move to the green pastures and real trees of Fredericksburg, Texas. Chris continues to work and hone his writing skills while breathing the fresh air of the hill country.

Mr. Cole can be contacted at kriskohl333@gmail.com.

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