|Welcome to the Monastery|
With 86 monks already on the list, and me probably stuck at level 1 forever .. don't know if anyone's ever gonna read this .. oh well ..
I'm "one of those people" who parts their name on the left. Alex really is my middle name, and that's the one I started out life with. It turned out that my Dad's younger brother Tim was killed in a car accident on the same day (in 1946) that I was born (in 1958); my Grandmother's older sister Meg suggested I be called Tim to commemorate him.
After trying out the various names (I have a third name that no one's going to hear) my parents finally decided that 'Timothy' sounded best at the front, hence T. Alex Beamish. The reorganized "Alex T. Beamish" is, of course, wrong.
About the accident: Tim was 12, my Dad was 14. Dad's parents were out shopping or something, and Tim was coasting down a hill on his bicycle in Hampstead (part of London, England) near the house where the family lived. Going out of control, he hit an off-duty ambulance, flew over the vehicle and landed on his head. The crew bundled him into the ambulance and roared off to the nearest hospital. My Dad, paralyzed with grief, didn't know what to do, and had to wait till his parents returned to tell them about the accident. They went off to the hospital as soon as they could, and returned a few hours later with the news that Tim had died of his head injuries.
Dad lost a close, dear friend on that day. So I continue to wear the "T." with pride.
And please, don't get me started on motorcycle riders who insist on their right to ride without a helmet.
"Excellent. Release the hounds." -- Monty Burns.