The Felix Carrolls have themselves a chat

This article first appeared in the Albany Times-Union.

By Felix Carroll

While it's not as if my name is Justus Panzarella or Frennel Luedecking or something equally obscure and unreasonable, my name is rare. And because I'm perfectly at peace with the fact that I'm obsessed with myself and everything within a 2-foot radius of me, I can go ahead and tell you that I've Googled myself and discovered that the "Felix Carroll" that is me pretty much owns the "Felix Carroll" space on the Web.
However (and maybe "however" is too strong of a word) there exists a certain "Felix Carroll" who is not me at all. Yes, and the activities of this so-called "Felix Carroll" are nipping at my knees in the Google search rankings (No. 4 to my No. 1, 2, and 3!).

He's a writer, a scientist and a professor. I know this because I clicked on his name. And I now also know he has a southern accent. I know this because I thought it might be kind of funny to call him up and ask him how being "Felix Carroll" is going for him, so I called him the other day, and it seems that being "Felix Carroll" is going OK.

But mostly he was a little surprised to hear from Felix Carroll, which certainly is understandable.


I reached him on two rings at his office at Davidson College in North Carolina. The semester is over. He was in the midst of reading The Journal of Physical Chemistry. The latest issue. The one with the cover that has an image of molecular dynamics simulations of protein–carbon dioxide interactions.



We chatted for about 20 minutes. Topics included physical organic chemistry, the town of Blowing Rock, N.C., and the limitations of knowledge.

He was not ashamed to admit he knows of me. Yes, he has Googled "Felix Carroll," too. He knows I wrote a story on oversized septic fields because that story was No. 2 in the "Felix Carroll" search results; not a high point in my career, but one must render unto Google what is Google's.

We both know we both wrote books. His is a science book. Mine is a religious book. So, together, we pretty much have things covered. His book doesn't have a typo on the very first page. Mine does.

But mostly we talked about being "Felix Carroll" in a world of few — maybe only two — Felix Carrolls, though Google shows vague traces of a Felix Carroll in Michigan. (Yo, if you're out there Felix Carroll of Michigan, don't be a stranger!)

"Hey, do people do that whole 'Felix the Cat' thing with you, too?" I asked Felix Carroll of North Carolina.

"Yes," he said. "I have to confess that when one of my colleagues went away somewhere, he brought me back a big picture of Felix the Cat and gave it to me as if it were a big accomplishment. I smiled and said, 'Oh, thank you,' but I wasn't particularly flattered."

"Yeah," I said, "it's either that, or the Felix-and-Oscar shtick."

(It's curious: Non Felixs feel obliged to greet Felixs as if their name is a fencepost upon which they must lean, throw nickels from and wait for the Felix in question to do or say something amusing. Felix Carrolls are not amused.)

"But people do remember your name when you're Felix Carroll," Felix Carroll said. "That can be a good thing, provided you stay out of trouble."


Both Felix Carrolls agreed it was time to bring this pleasant conversation to a close.


"Well, OK then, have fun being Felix Carroll," I said.


"You, too," Felix said.


Both of us had a laugh at that, a laugh that just may lift Felix Carroll of North Carolina to a place of honor on Google, just above oversized septic fields.


Felix Carroll is a former Times Union staff writer. His column appears every other Sunday.


Comments

Popular Posts