Kyle.

I have spent my life being called Kyle. By cups at Starbucks, receipts, roll call, awards, checks, personalized memorabilia, best friends, boyfriends, parents...

It's fine, I've accepted it.

Only now, in my new office, there's a real Kyle. This is a problem because I forget that and assume it's a typo or mispronunciation.

So here's me in my younger, patriotic, senior-year-Kyle days with Kurt, "the one that got away."

Someday we'll take that cross-country canoe ride. Just you, me, a harmonica and a bag of powdered chili.

You think I kid, but I've always loved America.