I should clear this up right away. I’m not Christopher Craig LeJeune. Don’t feel bad if you thought I was. Many have made this mistake. I don’t really know the guy, but for twenty years now, our lives have been crisscrossing and it seems like I always get a raw deal.

I remember the first time I laid eyes on him. I was in fourth grade. He was in fifth. My mother was picking me up from school and she struck up a conversation with another mother picking up her son. When they introduced themselves, they discovered that they had the same last name. And soon after, they discovered that they had both given their sons the same name. “Look Chris, this boy has the same name as you.” I looked up to see a shaggy-haired, scrawny kid. I seem to remember he had dirt on his face, but perhaps the events of the last twenty years are coloring my memory. At the time I could not have known the far-reaching impact he would have on my life.

And so I will lay out his crimes here:

1. High school - 1993. My report card is held because Christopher Craig has overdue books. A few minutes of conversation with the librarian resolves the situation.
2. High school – 1994. An old acquaintance approaches me about a rumor he has heard about me having a child. After I explain that I don’t, it doesn’t take long to figure out who the rumor is really about.
3. Summer 2002. I get a call from someone claiming to be my landlord. She tells me my rent is past due. I had just purchased a home and was no longer renting. I know just who to tell her to look for.
4. Fall 2003. I show up at my neighborhood polling station to cast my vote in Louisiana’s gubernatorial runoff election. The poll worker informs me that I’m not allowed to vote there. She says I must vote on the other side of town near LSU. It takes several calls to the Clerk of Courts Office before I am allowed to vote.
5. Winter 2005. A phone call wakes me up early on a Sunday morning. I voice I don’t recognize wants to know how I am. “I’m sorry, who is this?” I enquire. “Chris, this is your grandmother,” she replies incredulously. It’s clear to me that I’m not talking to my only living grandparent. I tell her to try the next entry in the phone book.
6. Summer 2006. A woman calls and tells me she works for the county courthouse in Lincoln, NE. Fortunately she begins by asking if she has the right Chris LeJeune. I tell her I’m pretty sure she doesn’t.

So Christopher Craig, if you’re reading this, if you googled your name and wound up here, please, for my sake, stay out of trouble. Oh, and call your grandma.

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