I have a good friend who I worked with for two years at my school paper. During those two years, we made an excellent team. We co-authored or co-reported at least ten articles, including some scoops and analyses, and when we were on the same news board, we were part of a group of editors who fed off of each other for better or for worse. Our brainstorming sessions are magnificent. Our plan for the future involves becoming the next Woodstein.
Here is the problem. Our names do not combine well. Neither our first names nor our last names are at all pronounceable in one non-laugh-inducing word.
There is at least one other friend I can think of who I would make a good team with. But her name does not fare any better with mine.
Never mind that none of us work for the same paper or necessarily will in the foreseeable future. The death knell will be the inability of our future editor to summon us as if we are actually joined at the hip.
Oh yeah, and neither of us wants to grow up to be Bernstein. Sure, his book is doing OK, but both of us want to be the one who could pay the bail, not the one asking for it.
Photos from UPI and Getty respectively via The New York Times
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