Here is a word-for-word transcript of a voice mail left for me at 8AM this morning: “Uh, hello. I’m looking for a David Peck who has a brother named Albert Peck. This is Albert’s mother, Rebecca. The problem is, uh, you may not know that you have a brother named Albert. But if you’re the right David Peck, you grew up either in Baltimore or Washington, D.C. and I think you live in California now. Listen, this is very urgent. Again, my name is Rebecca and I’m calling for a David Peck with a brother named Albert. Please call me at XXX- XXX-XXXX as soon as possible if this might be you.”
I called back. Rebecca determined (after going through possible birthmarks and step-mothers) that I’m not the right David Peck. But… damn.