Her name was Dorothy Shirley, but to me she will always be Shirley Shirley. It can be argued that she had two first names and, for a kid no older than ten, it's easy to see how one could get confused. I remember my mom exasperatedly trying to explain to me how her name was Dorothy, not "Shirley Shirley," as I was prone to (innocently) calling her. We went round and round about this, like some unintentional Abbott & Costello routine. "Who the hell is named Shirley Shirley?!" mom exclaimed at one point. I still didn't understand, but decided to back down, not wanting the back & forth to continue. Dorothy Shirley lived across the street and slightly to the south from us, at the corner of the street. We knew everyone on our little block of Draper St. when I was growing up, save one. That's just the way it was. Directly across from us were the Tuchels, Bob and Wanda. Bob died in 2019, aged 98. Wanda is still living. Next door, to the north, were th