By Any Other Name

 

When Annie was still living at home with her parents, they attended mass regularly at the local Catholic church.  After one service her dad, Jim, was leading them out.  The priest was saying goodbye to his flock and, as religious leaders are wont to do, making friendly, personal, or joking comments to each one.  As my father-in-law stepped forward, Father looked at him and his family.  He commented to the parishioner in front of him, pretending to speak in confidence but loud enough that it was obvious he was joking, “There’s Jim Heimer.  He has sisters named Doe Doe, Dor Dor, Din Din, and Boo Boo.”

He smiled and went on, “and they think they’re normal.”

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Doe Doe was pronounced that way but was actually spelled Do Do.  I think you’ll forgive the misspelling for clarity’s sake…and understand why.

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It’s not uncommon for families to have nicknames for each other but I think most settle on their given names or something close.  When my father-in-law was little, he came up with nicknames for his sisters, and they stuck.

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As my longtime readers know, Annie and I have six sons.  It came naturally to us to nickname them all sometime in their early years.

Scott II was named after me and we called him Scotty to differentiate our names.  As he began to interact with us that name transmogrified to Scotter, Scooter, Cooter, and Cooter Poot.  He remained Cooter more or less until he was old enough to be embarrassed by it.

It still comes up from time to time though.

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J.B. was named after Annie’s and my dads.  He was dubbed J.B. to keep from showing favoritism to either patriarch.  As Scotty began to talk he made youthful attempts to pronounce everyone’s name.  Da Da and Mama were easy enough but J.B. was a stretch for young vocal cords and came out, “Bee Ja”.

Ann rounded it to Beezer and thus it has remained.

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Robert easily became Bobby and I dubbed him Bubba Dub or the shorter, Bubba.  It’s usually just Bobby now that he’s grown but “Bub” still comes out now and then.

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T.J. is Bobby’s twin.  My dad’s dad was Thomas Jefferson but Mom objected to us naming him that so we kept the initials and named him Travis John after two of my cousins.  I insisted on calling him T.J.  Before long it was shortened to T which I couldn’t resist modifying to T-Bird. Now that he’s a bearded 6’1” high voltage lineman, he prefers Travis, but Annie and I still have T stuck in our brains.

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Their next younger brother, Andrew, came along 13 months after the twins.  Andrew, pronounced by the twins, came out “Ah-doo”.  He soon became the more manageable “Dude” and I still call him that frequently.

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Baby brother Patrick came along quite a few years after Andy so I can’t blame immature vocal cords for his nickname.  It’s all on me.  Like most kids, Patrick loved peanut butter, but he wanted it all the time.  I made the comment one time, “We’ll have peanut butter for the peanut brudder.

Yep, I still call him Peanut.

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I can’t lay all the responsibility for the nicknaming precedent on Annie’s dad and his family.  My mom’s family was similar in that the nine children who survived infancy were tagged with nicknames, most of which remained to adulthood.  The oldest, named Helen, was called Susie by almost everyone.  Of the others, Sue Ann was Boo Boo; Sherman was Buck; Harold is Pat to all who know him; Shirley was Babe; Betty somehow managed to stay Betty; Wanda was Pug for most of her life; and Judy was Dude in her youth.

The other sister, named Irene at birth, passed away before Annie and I brought our family down here to live so we made the trip to bid her farewell.  After my aunt’s funeral, we attended a service at the church of her daughter, Teddy, and Teddy’s husband, Bud.

Because of my usually indecipherable handwriting, Annie was filling out the guest card.  When she got to the line beside, “Who are you visiting?” she whispered to me, “What is Bud and Teddy’s last name.”

“Mayes,” I responded and looked over at the form.  I added, “But Teddy’s name is really Carol and Buds name is actually Charles.”

Annie smiled and nodded, then looked at the next question, “Reason for visit?”  She looked at me mischievously and said, “I bet you’re going to tell me Aunt Pete’s name wasn’t really Pete.”

Aunt Pete (Irene) would have loved that.

 

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