Posted tagged ‘nicknames’

“My last two girlfriends were named Anna, though the second one spelled her name backwards. So instead of Anna, it was spelled Anna, and that’s how I came to tell the two apart. ”

June 28, 2014

Today I was going to beg off from Coffee. I woke up with a headache, Gracie is barking at the world and I’m cold. Yup, I am also whining. The house is so cold my furnace would have gone on this morning. I even put on some socks and a sweatshirt. I really do miss my slippers, but they are gone now, gone where slippers go when they are passed their prime.

I got to thinking about names this morning. Who knows why? My brain just takes off on its own sometimes and brings me along for the ride. When I was growing up, there were, counting me, three Kathleen’s in my class and two or three Catherine’s. Mary by itself or combined with Alice or Ann was well represented. Patricia was a big one, and they were all either Pat or Patty, not a Trish among them and not one Patty with an i instead of a y. Susan, Donna and Carol rounded out many of the rest of the names of my classmates. My friend Maria was the only Maria, and there was only one Beatrice. My two best high school friends were Bobby and Jimmy. Add David, John, Michael and Tommy, and those were the names of most of the boys in my class. There was only one Henry, and he was called Henny.

It strikes me funny when nicknames are longer than the full names. Johnny is one of them and Pauly is another. I guess John is just too pedestrian. Nicknames also had to end in y, a rule of thumb back then. Think Billy, Larry, Ronny, Ricky or Joey. I knew them all. They were all in my class.

Now there are no rules for names. Make up one if you want. Name your kid after a city, maybe even the one where he or she was conceived, or after a planet or whatever strikes your fancy. If you’re a celebrity, be cutesy or even a bit strange. Think North West, Bodhi Rain and Cricket. I don’t know about you but I’d hate to be named after a bug. Hello, I’m mosquito!

My grand-nephews are Ryder, son of my nephew Ryan, and Declan, son of my niece Sarah. I have another grandnephew arriving in August and a grandniece in late July. Declan’s brother will be Jackson with the middle name George and will be called Jack a popular name in itself. Ryder’s sister will be Georgina, an uncommon name, and will be called Georgie. I like that. Both are named after my father. I like that part the most.

“I never thought I’d hear myself say it, but safety first!”

April 12, 2013

The bird’s beak rat tat tatting against my house woke me up this morning, but I’m getting so used to it I fell back to sleep. When I woke up, I looked out the window, saw the gray skies and decided to lie in bed a while and finish reading the James Patterson novel 12th of Never (Women’s Murder Club). Patterson must grind out a book every month which is probably why his novels are getting shorter and shorter like Mary Higgins Clark’s did with all the blank pages between chapters. I stopped reading Clark. I fear Patterson is next.

When we were young, most kids used their nicknames. Ours were never cruel or mean. Mostly they were just shortened versions of our own names. James was always Jimmy and Robert was always Bobby. I was Kathy except to my family who always called me Kat, the name I preferred. Once in a while, in an argument, you’d hear four eyes for a kid with glasses or cry baby if someone was brought to tears but that was about as mean as kids got. We never swore. Even someone saying hell would make for huge gasps from the crowd at the horror of it all. I never saw a physical fight when I was kid except between two adults; however, I admit I did punch someone in the school yard when I was in the fifth grade, and when I was 17, I punched someone at Fenway Park, but those are my only transgressions. Both of them were deserved.

Our innocence lasted a long time. We walked or biked all over town and not once did we wonder about our safety. We didn’t know about all the bad guys out there. We were afraid of the bomb but knew we were safe under our desks. Even though I knew it was only a story, I was a little afraid of the man with the hook so a branch against the window sometimes gave me pause. My mother taught us never to talk to strangers or take anything from someone we didn’t know. That was her only worldly advice. I guess she figured it covered just about everything.