Craig Daily Press

What's in a name? Well, each of us has our own name. It's what we are identified by.

Of course every once in a while, someone will forget our name and say, "There goes old whatchamacallit."

Well, I'm going to tell you I've forgotten my own name. Several of them in fact. What am I talking about? Well, we have to go to the old P-K Coal camp, and the year 1931. In January of that year, I was born, but who was I?

Some people might wonder just where was the old P-K coal camp? Well, when Mt. Harris was an active coal-mining town, for a while there were three active coal mines, the Victor American Coal Co., the Colorado Utah Coal Co. and the Pinnacle Kemmerer Coal Co.

Each mine had its own camp, complete with their own company Store etc... There was one common school and post office for the three camps.

The P-K camp was associated with the Pinnacle Kemmerer Coal Co. The camp and mine were on the east side of Wolf Creek and north of Highway 40. The Victor American Coal Co. mine and camp was on the west side of Wolf Creek and north of Highway 40.

The Colorado Utah Coal Co. mine was on the south side of the Yampa River. Most of the camp was north of the river and south of Highway 40. However, there was a swinging bridge across the river and some of the camp was on the south side of the river.

I was born in one of the old P-K shacks. There was no doctor in attendance. My birth was never recorded. Who was I? Well, it depended on which one of my family you were talking to.

Sound crazy? Well, in a way, it was. I was a boy of many names. I had nine brothers and sisters older than me. Each one had a name picked out for me.

Only trouble was after I was born, no one could agree on which name to give me. Instead, each one called me by the name they liked. Now that wouldn't have been so bad if this would have been only for the first few months of my life. How long did it last? Well this is hard to believe, but I had several names up until I was six years old.

Now, at age of 6, I was going to have to start going to school. I couldn't start school under nine or 10 different names. Something had to be done. But what?

My family had been unable to agree on one name in the past six years, but now they had no choice. The solution? Someone came up with the idea of letting me name myself. Sounding crazier all the time? It was.

Everyone put the name they wanted for me in a hat, and I got to draw out one, which was "Charles." I can't remember which one of my family put that one in the hat. It wasn't my Pop, because I remember the name he always called me by.