I'm one of the shrinking number of Americans that have a cell phone and haven't cut the cord to their landline. When the home phone rings it's usually my dad calling on his trusty home phone. The next most frequent caller is my girlfriend; third is my buddy Craig who still has my home number programmed on his cell's speed dial. The rest of the callers are solicitors and people trying to reach another Larry Stone.
A lot can happen when you and other guys have the same name. In the latter half of the 1990's and most of the 2000's another Larry Stone and I lived at separate addresses on Rancho Mission Road, a short street in San Diego's Mission Valley. Occasionally I got his mail and phone calls and maybe he got mine, but we never met. All I know about him is he might have had a delinquent account and the last four digits of his social security number do not match mine.
One time I was mistaken for a more famous Larry Stone. During restaurant week -- the annual days when participating restaurants offer prix fixe menus for $20, $30 or $40 per person -- my girlfriend and I went to Molly's, a steakhouse then located inside the downtown Marriott Marina. I gave my name to the hostess who seated us immediately, the first indication I wasn't who they thought I was. As we looked over the prix fixe menu choices, the house sommelier stopped at our table and with a hint of expectation asked me, "Are you Larry Stone?" I looked at her trying to figure out if she was a former classmate or maybe looking for another Larry Stone. With nothing more to go on, I just replied boastfully, "Why, yes I am!" She introduced herself as Lisa Redwine, and asked if I was Larry Stone the sommelier from Northern California. That brought us both back to earth. I had to tell her no, a fact she could have just as easily discerned from my decidedly unsophisticated knowledge about wines.
There are two more Larry Stones of some repute and I crossed paths with one. There's Larry Stone the county assessor in Santa Clara, California. We both wear glasses and have thinning hair, but in his online profile he wears the easy smile of someone headed for a good pension. The other is perhaps the most reknown Larry Stone, a sports columnist for The Seattle Times. I emailed both of them about this post and asked if they had ever had experiences like mine. Larry Stone the sports writer replied with alacrity and added to the Circle of Larry:
Hi, Larry. I feel like I know you. Sounds like a great blog post – can’t wait to read it.
When I was working at the San Francisco Examiner, I actually interviewed Larry Stone, who was then the mayor of Santa Clara and is now the county assessor you mentioned. He was heavily involved in a movement to get the Giants to San Jose, if I recall, and I was doing a story about that. I called him up and we had a good laugh about the fact that Larry Stone was interviewing Larry Stone. I think we put a disclaimer at the end of the story that we weren’t related.
When I moved to Seattle to cover the Mariners for the Seattle Times, there was a freelance radio reporter named Larry Stone who also covered a lot of Mariners games. That led to some confusion. One time, we both went on a road trip to Colorado to cover the Mariners in a big interleague series. I had arranged for a parking pass, but when I went to pick it up, they said, “Oh, Larry Stone already picked up the pass.” The other Larry Stone had taken my pass!
There is a long-time outdoors writer in Iowa named Larry Stone. He used to work for the Des Moines Register, but now I think he’s freelance.
And that’s about the extent of my Larry Stone knowledge. Feel free to use what you want.
Take care, Larry.
Larry
Thanks, Larry.
Readers of this blog may know another Larry Stone or one that uses the more formal nom de guerre Lawrence Stone. We're everywhere. We're dentists, doctors, civil lawyers, teachers and professors, politicians, fitness coaches, corporate CFO's, pastors, newspapermen, wine experts, photographers and authors. One collects WWII memorabilia. Another repairs guns. There's the guy researching his family tree. If you're calling for one of them, sorry, I'm not that Larry Stone.
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