Read Trying to Float for Free Online Page B

kids.
    Oh, yes, about that name.
    As reported by my mother, Uhura’s mom was a fan of the 1960s television show Star Trek, which she watched as a child. She thought, sometimes amusingly, other times seriously, of naming her children, were she to have them, after characters in the show.
    When, years later, she was told by her physician that she was having a girl, the soon-to-be mother began to tell her friends and family that her daughter would be named Uhura, giving them plenty of time to arrange for the “Uhura” diaper bags, “Uhura” engraved picture frames, and “Uhura” onesies.
    And as everyone, including Uhura’s mother, joked about a child named after a Star Trek character, they also secretly envied her, thinking that the name would give Uhura that little something extra that every competitive parent in New York wanted for their child.
    When Uhura was finally born, it was obvious that she had that little something extra—a penis.
    Uhura’s penis had been accidentally missed by the sonogram, and then, surprise, there it was. My mom commented, “Bones would not have missed it.” Bones, I later learned, was the doctor on the spaceship USS Enterprise in Star Trek .
    As my mother explained it, Uhura’s mom, too proud and by now too committed, gave her son the name Uhura, knowing that few would understand its origins and confident that everyone, including herself, would refer to him as “Harry.” My mom, recognizing the reference when the two mothers dropped off their kids on the first day of school, developed a friendship with Uhura’s mom.
    â€”
    One of the odd things about Harry was that whenever my dad walked into the classroom, Harry would throw a toy athim or yell at him or even strike him with his fist. Harry made sure to do this just after his mother left the room and before the teacher arrived. My father was not especially popular with the kids in the class, but Harry was the only one who actually attacked him.
    My father would brush this off. He knew, I suspect, of my infatuation.
    The attacks lasted until that morning when Harry, his head bent forward, rushed full speed at my father’s groin. Relying on his knowledge of human pressure points, Father waited until Harry was just within arm’s reach to make his thumb disappear behind Harry’s earlobe.
    Harry collapsed on the floor, where he lay unconscious, surrounded by a hyperventilating chorus of children and parents.
    When Harry was able to talk, he told the teacher that it was my father’s fault.
    Father, finding the screaming distasteful, had already departed for his morning coffee, and as a result, was not there to defend himself. I tried my best to explain the history of Harry’s attacks on my father, but no one was listening. I was hustled to the principal.
    The principal’s office was a predictably unpleasant place. The only seat for those in trouble was a long wooden bench with no cushions.
    After Harry had finished telling his lies about what had happened, the mood turned against me. Sitting on the bench, I began to sweat as the principal and his assistants battered me:
    â€œWhere’s your father?”
    â€œWas he ever violent with you?” and
    â€œWhat exactly does he do for a living?”
    I inhaled slowly and cracked my knuckles.
    â€œHis favorite café; only if you include sarcasm; and if you can figure that out, my mom and I would like to know.”
    I had a list of real complaints about my father, which I kept in my I Love Lucy backpack, but none seemed relevant now.
    As to what had actually happened in the classroom that morning, I provided the principal with a concise and calm explanation:
    â€œUhura started it!”
    â€œUhura?”
    â€œThe chief communications officer on Star Trek , ” I offered.
    â€œNichelle Nichols attacked your father?”
    â€œNo. Harry. He’s named after her because they missed his