What the L
 
 by
Scott Leonardo Bovenizer

Dear Universe,

My middle name is L.  It’s on my birth certificate. Just the letter L. Some may call it my middle initial, but it’s not really. Technically, a letter can’t be an initial if it isn’t the first letter of a name. So really, my parents gave me a middle “letter”. My father’s middle initial is L, for Leroy. All three of my siblings have middle names starting with L, Patricia Louise, Paula Lee and Richard Lynn. Then me, Scott L. At 14 my teenage angst got the better of me and I initiated a guilt assault on my mother. "Hey Mom! What gives with my just L middle name thing? What am I, chopped Liver?” She smiled and said, "Well honey, your father and I thought it would be nice if you could choose your own middle name". Whooosh! That was the sound of the wind leaving my sails. Even though it didn't seem like the whole story, my guilt assault lost all momentum. I thought, “I can pick my own middle name? How cool is that!” I went from feeling slighted to feeling special somehow. You see, I was my parent’s surprise baby. As my Mom put it, I was her best mistake ever. But imagine their panic when they realized they needed one more L name. I can see them on the day I was born, rifling through The Book of Baby Names like speed-reading with Evelyn Wood. "Let's see! Lamar. No. Lars. No. Leland. Nope. Lenard. No way. Lipet. What? Linus. You’re kidding. Lloyd. Nah. Lovable. True…but no. Lucifer. Just kidding. Lucky. Hey, how ‘bout Lucky? No!." Finally, with Mom and Dad both light on patience, I can hear Dad say, "Sophie, let's just tell him to come up with his own darn middle name!" So there I am, just L.

Now in my fifties, I’m ready to fulfil my middle name prophecy. I dug around the internet for L names. “Hmmm, let's see! Lamar. No. Lars. No. Leland. Nope. Lenard. No way. Shoot, it’s probably not going to work this time either!” So I took another approach. I made a short list of historic persons whom I had interest in and respect for, and of course, a name starting with L. You know, biggies like Abraham Lincoln, Linus Pauling and Charles Lindberg. When I hit on Leonardo Di Vinci, I struck gold and I stopped looking. First, I am 50% Italian and my childhood was basked in Italian culture. Second, Leonardo Di Vinci had captured my imagination as a kid and I used him for extra credit reporting whenever I could. Twenty years later, I traveled a bit out of the way to the town of Vinci, Italy to visit Leonardo's home and museum. Awesome! Leonardo! Leo! Perfect!

However, before making it official there was one more thing to do. As I write this, I sit at my mother's hospital bedside. She is 93. Her mind is still sharp, probably due to a lifetime of crossword puzzles, Bridge and another card game she affectionately called, Screw Your Neighbor. Her body is failing. She is weak while drugs ease her pain. I took advantage of a lucid moment to ask her about our middle names and why all the L’s. Mom revealed that Patty's middle name came from her best friend Sara Louise. Then because of Dad’s middle name Leroy, when Paula came along they continued with the L's. I asked her again about my just L and she stuck to her choose-your-own story. When I told her I had, she got excited and asked what I had chosen. I told her. In a soft, slow voice, she recited it as if she were solving a puzzle on Wheel of Fortune, "Scott Leonardo Bovenizer". She paused, and then said it again. "Scott Leonardo Bovenizer". She looked directly at me and affirmed my choice with, “I love it”.  Sitting next to Mom and listening were my two daughters, Kendal Lauren and Rachel Lynn. We all smiled. My Mother passed peacefully five days later. I miss you Mom.

Leo