Nicknames

I’ve come to the conclusion that nicknames are more important than actual names, with the obvious exception of an attempt to get a ballot in November. Nicknames are descriptive, metaphoric, and often assigned to you by people who know you best. This is not true of parents who give you a birth name based on some distant aunt, family tradition, or hand-me-down to which they attach the indignity of a number or “junior.” This does not mean that every nickname is one that you like or is free from mild insult, nor that it is completely appropriate. A favorite uncle, for example, who lived in Columbia, Illinois, was a very large man, especially in terms of girth. His nickname was “Tiny.” I don’t even know what his real name was, and I suspect most of my family doesn’t either.

This brings to mind a very funny Youtube series called Marcel the Shell. If you have not seen any segments, I highly recommend them. In one of my favorites, Marcel, in her best toddling, almost Charlie Brown voice asks, “Do you know what I want that I will never ask for? A nickname. I mean, you can’t just tell people to call you ‘The General’.” She is so right. You don’t really get to pick. After my detached retina surgery, when I wore a patch for several months while the gas bubble that kept my retina pushed up against the back of my eyeball, I tried calling myself “Pirate,” thinking that it had a kind of swashbuckling romanticism to it in the vein of Johnny Depp, but it didn’t stick. My fishing buddies settled on “Popeye,” instead. I have nothing against Popeye or spinach, but “Pirate” would have been so much cooler. In truth, I’ve reached the age in which being cool is not really an option for me anyway. Even when my daughter gave me a really cool red baseball cap with the numbers 608 emblazoned on the crown, and everywhere I went in Madison people commented on how cool my hat was, I had to confess that I didn’t see why until my daughter explained, “Dad, that’s your new phone area code for Madison. It’s cool. Duh.” The “duh” means I am not cool even in a cool hat.

Not being cool is not as bad as dealing with other nicknames. In grade school, I was “Little Harps,” to the older kids because I had an uncle well known for being a troublemaker but a good athlete, who was called “Harps.” The “Little” was not so bad. My son, however, was called “Little Jim” by his skateboarding buddies because of an older and bigger friend, who was “Big Jim.” In his skateboarding circle, he is still “Little Jim,” even though he is now just under 6’3″ and bigger than “Big Jim.” It could be far worse. Back when I taught freshmen, I had several classes who thought the proper way to get my attention was to call out, “Mr. Hairball.” It usually took a few days to settle on a compromise of “Mr. H.”

In high school, as a member of the almost famous band Mogen David and the Grapes of Wrath (was that a great name or what!), since I wasn’t Mogen David, I was a Grape. It wasn’t so bad being a Grape. I think it was better than being a Trogg, which I assume was short for “troglodyte.”

Because the current political climate is so toxic, I’m not going to get into any discussion of Mitt vs Barry. That’s too bad. I could have written a decent paragraph about those two nicknames, not to mention Big Dog and Turdblossom.

City nicknames also are fun. What else could New York be, except the Big Apple? Many people misunderstand the Second City as a reference to population, which is not true; it is a reference to the second city on the site where the first one burned down. Atlanta is much more appropriately, Hot-lanta. Los Angeles, where I doubt there are many angels left, is more appropriately LA, or even better LA-LA Land. Beantown, St. Louie, Big D, Mad-town, (which a former governer described as 92 square miles surrounded by reality), Motown, which really used to be Motortown, and The Big Easy – you’ve gotta’ love nicknames.

Next month I’m going in for my second cataract surgery. After that, I’m going to try for “Pirate” again. I still think it would be cool, as cool as someone over 60 could be. Do you know what I want, but I’m not going to ask for? A cooler nickname.