I Am A Jim Wayland

Ever Google yourself?

Oh, get your mind out of that filthy gutter. You know exactly what I mean. You're not famous, you're not rich, you're not written about in publications obscure and obscene. But in this age of information gathering and limitless online data, it's almost a sure bet that typing your name into the Google search engine is going to bring up at least an entry or two about yourself, your activities, and your whereabouts on the night in question.

Or maybe not. How common is your name? I assumed mine was fairly common, except in its full form, James Yadon Wayland. (Yadon was my mother's maiden name, and James Yadon was my maternal grandfather. His two sons died as teenagers, and so I was given Yadon in the hope of carrying on the family name. Sorry, Grandpa.)

But take away the middle name, and the Google hits for mentions of James Wayland number about 15,800, and over 6,700 for Jim Wayland. Either there are quite a few of us around, or I need to lay off the Ambien.

A close inspection of the search engine hits for my name reveals a multiverse of identities, which I categorize as either Historical Jim Waylands, Contemporary Jim Waylands, or Fictional Jim Waylands.

Dr. and Mrs. James Wayland

Historically, we haven't done a lot. Probably the most prominent one was a Dr. James Wayland, founder of the 100-year-old Wayland Baptist University in Plainview, TX. This man donated 25 acres of prime real estate and $10,000 to start "a university to be based on Christian principles, believing that education within the Biblical worldview had the power to transform lives in an even greater way than education alone could do." Obviously, this man is no relation to me. (I do like the fact, however, that Wayland U. allowed a group of black teachers to enroll there in 1951 in order to take a class needed to retain their teaching certification. Quite progressive in pre-Civil Rights Era Texas.)

A few other contemporary Jim/James Waylands seem to have done pretty well for themselves. One James is an account manager for a large insurance firm in Hartford, CT, and another is an electrical engineer (specializing in Defense and Space) in Birmingham, AL. In the United Kingdom, James Wayland is in management counseling, and in Sydney, Australia, James Wayland is a civil engineer. I was especially interested to learn that a James Wayland is the author of a novel titled Trailer Park Trash and Vampires. But I also learned this James lives in Virginia with his wife and two daughters, ending my momentary jealousy. (I do like his name on MySpace: "Jimmy B. Damned." Wonder what he would think of "Paris Hilton's Pussy"?)


The other Jim Wayland I would most like to meet has a Ph.D. in counseling and mental health, and practices in Georgetown, TX. Imagine what it would be like to seek psychiatric counseling from someone who has your same name! Who would know you better than you? Whenever the question "What would Jim Wayland do?" came up, well, I'd simply call and ask me. "Dr. Jim Wayland, you have Jim Wayland holding on Line 3." And what would the receptionist think when I went for my first appointment? "Hello, I'm here to see Jim Wayland." "Yes, sir, and what is your name?" "Jim Wayland." Even better than "Who's On First"!


Fictional Jim/James Waylands, though . . . that's another story altogether. In the 1997 film "Deceiver" (MGM), Tim Roth plays "James Wayland, a brilliant pathological liar who's suspected of cutting a prostitute in half, and the actor revels in the chance to create a personality that's ghostly and layered, a dissipated, haughty, filthy-rich ne'er-do-well, a man who's inevitably faking you out at the moment you're most sure you're seeing into his heart." Oh yeah, I'm definitely related to that guy.

The biggest surprise for me, though, was to find a character named Jim Wayland in a sci-fi/fantasy novel, Freehold, by Michael Z. Williamson. The story takes place in some sort of futuristic military facility, has a female protagonist, and, for one brief chapter, an antagonist with my name.


"Her first impression of Sergeant Jim Wayland was a good one. He was outgoing, cheerful and imposingly big. He towered over her by a good ten centimeters. He shook hands and greeted everyone while cracking jokes. He was brawny, with a craggy face and a goofy grin." So far, an uncanny resemblance.


Then, over the course of the chapter, the resemblance to me ends, for the most part, when Sergeant Wayland turns out to be lazy, antagonistic, manipulative, and prone to sexually harassing both the female and male workers under his supervision. Hey, I said "for the most part"!

A few quotes from the charming and gregarious sergeant:

"You'll bark like a dog if I tell you to."

"It's all in who you blow. If they want someone, the rank doesn't matter."

"You look better in blue, Kendra. Maybe something lacy and tight?"

"You get me hotter than a two-peckered billy goat!"

He's eventually reported and transferred out, but not before a young man he's been hitting on (a very young man, I have to say) posts this about him on the company bulletin board:


Why Jim Wayland is like a fart:
He’s loud
He stinks
He rose above his point of origin
No one knows where he came from
He won’t go back there
We never wanted him in the first place
Any asshole could produce another one.

I hate to admit it, but that's probably the best bit of writing in the entire novel. *sigh*

OK, you need to stop laughing now. Stop it, you hear me?!?

Aw, why don't you go Google yourself!!