THE Allison

"Now wait, " says my friend's boss, gesturing a pause in the happy hour conversation, "are you THE Allison?"

And I draw myself up as tall as I go, "Yes," I reply, "I am."

"Really! Well then I should give you a hug!" THE Allison is apparently welcome on a whole different level.

If you know us I don't have to tell you that later there was an awful lot of laughing about this particular exchange, but, THE Allison? I think I kind of love it. It arose because he was confused about why I appeared at the end of their extended Go Away party; I happen to know the woman who's moving to Pittsburgh, too, but I was there to retrieve my friend, the one who's apparently mentioned my name often enough that it has registered on the radar.

THE Allison, as if all the others are fakes. But, honestly, don't you think that way about anyone who shares your name? That you are the real deal and the other one is a pale imitation? I kinda think I do. Then again, Allison wasn't common in my childhood. I never got used to sharing. But that is merely a tangent; THE Allison is really about my connection to my friend, though it's hardly the first time I've been introduced through her.

A hundred years ago, when we were in college, I was introduced all over Florida, or, okay, maybe just once, as "Dena's little friend." Grandmas will be grandmas. It was kinda sweet in that annoying, oh please way, and now of course I miss her, but, finally a new phase. THE Allison. I like that so much better.