Some kids are really dumb. I think it’s a personal choice.

Dear Dad,

I still haven’t heard from you. I wonder if my letters are stacking up again at your tiny little post office. Now that people up there know that I write to you, maybe someone else is reading my letters. Maybe Sung-Hee or Carl or Gordon or the silent postman are reading these words, right now. If so, hello. I don’t mind so much, really. I want to have someone to talk to. I’ve gotten used to it.

The dog is still nameless. Rhonda disagrees. She insists its name is Cassandra, but no one else will call it that. Rhett calls it Black Dog. I kind of like that. Rhett says Black Dog is the name of a cool old song by Led Zeppelin. He tries to sell the name to me that way, just like he’s always trying to sell me something. Mom calls it Doggy or Puppy or sometimes Blackie. I just call it Dog.

Names matter, I think. Your name is Hugh. Kind of a weird name, really, but the meaning is cool. “Bright in mind and spirit” is what the internet tells me. You named me Trevor, which I’ve always liked, but the meaning is pretty lame. “From the big settlement.” Who the hell cares about which settlement I’m from? I know that you named me after Uncle Trevor. I guess someone must have cared what settlement HE was from. Zo ztrange.

A couple of months ago, this kid at school said, “Your family all has weird, old-fashioned names.” I said, “They’re not old-fashioned. They’re Welsh.” He said, “Welch? You mean like the grape juice?” I said, “No, you idiot. WelSH. Like, from Wales.” He said, “Whales? Like the fish?” I said, “No, like the country. Wales. Next to England. And whales aren’t fish, you retard. Whales are mammals.”

Some kids are really dumb. Mom would say it’s from playing too many video games, but I think it’s more about a personal choice. Like, “I choose to be dumb. Please don’t teach me anything. I take pride in my total dumbnosity.”

OK, I looked up the song Black Dog on the web. Here are some sample lyrics:

Hey hey mama said the way you move, Gon’ make you sweat, gon’ make you groove.

That sounds pretty dirty. Just saying. Kind of a weird song to name a dog after, if you ask me.

Your son,

Trevor