Since we’ve been talking about names, now’s a good time to introduce another post from guest blogger* Billie Brownell …
Are Nicknames a Dying Art Form?
When I was in college, I became friends with a girl whose nickname, I thought, was “Duck.” It turned out that her nickname was “Duct”—given to her because she and her family had been held up in their home by robbers who used duct tape to bind them. (This was funnier than it sounds now.)
But I have realized recently that few people in my circle now have nicknames, unless they are shortened versions of their given names. Gosh, that’s not the way it used to be. When I was growing up, nearly everyone had a nickname of some kind. It was both affectionate and needling, in some cases, but it helped you stand out as an individual. Maybe that’s what Twitter and Facebook sign-on names can do now, though I rarely see anything other than a real name (I did come across an Orange Blossom the other day).
Among our circle at Cool Springs Press, Marc’s father was nicknamed Mule because he was, well, stubborn as. Katie E-P was nicknamed Kelp fairly recently and, given that she’s a surfer, that fits nicely. Laura W’s father calls her Larry (but of course). Laura S’s nickname was Miss McGillicuddy (and her brother was Heffalump).
My sister and her husband, who know everyone in our little hometown, are friends with Catfish (because he looks like one) and Sweaty (because he always is). But listen to this—my brother-in-law (whose own nickname is Fence Hopper from his days as a meter reader) personally knows (in addition to the aforementioned Catfish and Sweaty): Hoghead, Wrinkle Belly, Sweet Man, Little Man, Bones, Motus, Sock Eye, Wall Eye, Mouser, Doughboy, Stick, Doc, Snake, Slick, Truck, Tank, Bumpy, Lumpy, Sleepy, Stork, Daddy Rabbit (a side note: I went to high school with the Daddy Rabbit), Leach, Buddy, Bunky, Shooter, Easy, Easy Money, Cupcake, and Heavy Drop. I can only imagine how some of those nicknames came about.
Maybe it’s a gender thing; maybe men tend to assign nicknames more than women. But I feel deprived; I want a new nickname. They have been BB and Bill for obvious reasons but that’s just a little too boring for me. Thank heaven, though, that my last name isn’t Gunn because I did hear of a person nicknamed BB Gunn when I was growing up. I swear it’s true.
I’m a little sad to think nicknames may be passing us by; the world needs some fun. Let’s have some fun! What is your nickname? If you could choose your own, what would it be?
* Used with permission. An editor at Cool Springs Press, Billie can be found on Facebook and Twitter.
Disclosure of Material Connection: I have not received any compensation for writing this post. I have no material connection to the brands, products, or services that I have mentioned. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”
Hmmm…nicknames as an “art form”? Don’t ya think they’re more of a regional cultural phenomenon? I never knew an adult to have a nickname until I left western Canada to live in east Texas, where I dealt with construction contractors with names like Rabbit, Mule, Bubba and Hawk.
No nicknames at all?! My daddy (with a genealogy in the South but born and raised in St. Louis) had more than one nickname, though now that I think about it, they probably all emanated from the military (he was a pilot in the air force). Curly was one (he was bald). G.I. Buddha, dating from his tours in Vietnam, was another (think of the fat, jolly Buddha). I grew up in California in the 60s, and recall quite a few nicknames from those days. Still, I do believe it’s been elevated to…well, an art form in the South. Aside from that, I love the way Billie’s mind works!
When I was in high school (Dark Ages), there was a boy who strongly resembled the Mad Comic character, Alfred E. Newman. The boys nicknamed him “Me Worry” — from Newman’s famous question, “What, me, worry?” What gets me, now, is that we all thought it was “cute.” I’ll be *he* didn’t think it was so cute! But he was a good sport about it (what choice did he have?) and it’s true that we all did love the character. Still … who could be happy looking like Alfred W. Newman, or having ones immediate world remind him of that, constantly.
Excellent point. It’s absolutely true that not all nicknames are kind ones and may, in fact, cause great pain. It’s a fine line between gently teasing (my father’s “Curly,” for example; he started losing his hair at age 16 and was completely bald by 21, the year he married my mother…but Curly came while he was in flight school) and potentially cruel razzing.
Our Sri Lankan soninlaw has told us some amusing stories about people he knows there, and how they acquired their nicknames. While they are not always flattering, they are descriptive enough to clearly identify people. Our daughter had never met one gentleman, but recognized who it must be immediately from his very unusual voice on the phone: his nickname was “Bird”, and he chirped!
I love this!
Margaret just reminded me of another nickname that surely caused emotional pain, although, again, no one gave it a second thought at the time. My sister’s college roommate was a little, plump blond — and her nickname was “Tweety Bird.” Yikes! *Why* did everyone think that was cute?!
Although she may remember it with fondness in her later years. Who knows? I don’t think we should beat ourselves up about these things too much in hindsight. My nickname was (and still is, in certain circles) “James.” A different girl might have disliked a male name (although with a name like Jamie, you could say I was already inured to that, as I got told regularly that Jamie was a boy’s name! Usually by little boys!) but as it was my beloved father’s name (obviously, I was named after him), I adored it. I’m pretty much a girly-girl, though, and never felt threatened. I also have a dear friend who calls me Fred, but that’s another story.