The Legend of Bobcat, Part I
As a kid I always thought it would be neat to have a nickname. I don't know why I had a fascination with nicknames. Maybe it was because I wanted to be noticed or different. I do remember I didn't like my first name when I was younger, so maybe I thought a nickname would replace my first name, like it did for my Grandpa. I thought it was really cool that my Grandpa Andy wasn't even named Andy; people just called him that because of his last name. And he had been called Andy forever! Only his close friends and family knew his real name. Hell, I didn't even know his real name until I was probably 5 or 6 years old. I wanted to have a nickname like my Grandpa did...and I wanted it bad. Who can figure out the workings of a young mind, right?
Never the less, no matter how badly I wanted a nickname, I never had one as a kid. I tried to make a few nicknames stick. One time I thought being called "Skizzy" would be terrific. I picked it up from an episode of "Happy Days". I was in 6th grade and I asked my "boyfriend" if he would call me Skizzy. He laughed at me. I remember it like it was yesterday. We were on the phone and I declared, "I have a nickname! It's Skizzy!" and he laughed at me. Not only that, he called me variations of it, one being Skizzors. Yeah. And then he went to school the next day and told everyone. Rather than gaining a nickname, I lost several ounces of my dignity. Nice. Needless to say, Skizzy didn't become my alter ego.
When I was in high school I was called Andy by a few people because of my last name. I thought it was totally awesome because it was reminiscent of Grandpa. I had a friend who went by Baldy and another one called Mushy. Andy, Baldy and Mushy. Yup. We made quite the trio. We even had shirts printed with our nickname on the back. We thought we were so cool. All we really ended up doing was alienating friends who didn't have names that worked by adding a "y". And of course, it was a bit immature. But, again, who can figure out the workings of a young mind? And who at that age can stand back and look at themselves objectively and know that you can't FORCE a nickname?
So fast forward to a few years ago...when I was in my mid-to-late-thirties. By this time the only nickname I had was from my husband, who occasionally called me "Bug". I had long since forgotten about the urgent need for a nickname. I actually became proud of my first name when I entered into the adult, more mature, world. The childhood desire for the ultimate nickname had left me. But, you know the saying..."it happens when you least expect it". Yeah. So there came a day...a day that started out like any other...that something happened in my life that morphed me into being known as something other than my first name. I suddenly was bequeathed with a nickname...and it stuck. I was now...BOBCAT.
...stay tuned for The Legend of Bobcat Part II...
Sunday, August 2, 2009
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