Those Sticky Nicknames

My home town paper had a piece on nicknames. While reading the list I remembered many of those names...familiar in a strange way. Actually many of those names, given after the birth of the child, stuck through the school years, and now and then, they clung to the person through their adult lives, even appearing in the final obituary.

When I was in high school I wanted to have a nickname like so many others. I was never fortunate to be baptized by my peers. Or, perhaps, I should be grateful I never acquired one of those "nasty" names. Back in my day most of the nicknames were just that...not positive or negative....just a title bestowed by the other kids in a teasing, friendly sort of way.

I tried to install the name Meg on myself. After all, those were my initials, but I soon discovered that self-naming did not have the sticking power. I could not even shorten my name like Elizabeth to Beth or Eliza. Mary Ellen was just that...no Meg.

My sister shortened her name from Patricia to Patsy or Pat, my brother David became Dave and my oldest brother...well, that is a longer story.

He was baptized Placid Raoul Goulet. His first name was after his grandfather, Placide and Raoul was our father's name, although everyone called him Roy. When my brother was born, the doctor placed him in my mother's arms and said, "Here is your little snookums." That name stuck with gradual changes from Snookums to Snooks and later, Nooks.

As my brother grew older he did not appreciate the name Nooks, but he certainly shied away from his given name, Placid. He suffered in silence when teachers called on him with his given name, and I think deep down he preferred Snooks or Nooks. As soon as he left home and could establish his own identity as an adult, he dropped his nickname and his first name and called himself Roy.

I do love the name Roy, but deep inside of me my big brother will always, in one way or another, be Nooks in my memories. Those nicknames really do have staying power.

Time for Memories

Feet elevated, I sit a lot these days. I wrote before that I would get long delayed reading completed. In truth, when I feel up to it, I do, but there are those times when I just sit, little energy for anything else. This is the rare time when special memories flow back.

This morning I was watching the Beta swim lazily around in his bowl. My eyes wandered to a memento near by that I had saved through these many years. That time included the fire that took most of our possessions, but left a few trunks of memories in our pole barn untouched by the unpredictable savagery of those flames.

The small figurine was one of my mother's collection of Hummels that she cherished and displayed proudly on her living room bookcases. As I recall, this particular  piece was titled "the little goose girl. "This story passed on to me, much as the Hummel. I am passing the story on to you, my readers.

My mother was fanatical about living in a clean, uncluttered house. She dusted, swept and vacuumed faithfully for as long as I can remember. One day she dusted the little goose girl figurine which depicted a little girl, a bouquet of flowers clutched behind her back, looking down at two geese who laid their necks and heads on the girl's chest. "Sweet" is the correct description of this charming scene.

One day as my mother was dusting the statue, she was startled to see that the little girl was looking up at her, instead of down at the geese. My mother was not one to question events in life as my father did, but rather she usually accepted whatever came her way.

Imagine her confusion when some time later the goose girl was looking in another direction. As she told me the story years later, she began to doubt her sanity. Eventually the truth came out, restoring my mother's mental state, but pointing the finger at my mischievous older brother who loved building model planes and who was equipped with the delicate brushes and paint necessary to re-do the wandering eyes of that usually steadfast little girl.

Hummels as old as this one could be valuable for collectors at estate sales. This Hummel lost any of its value after being painted and repainted many times, but the true value, priceless in my eyes, is the story and precious memory I will have whenever I look at, or dust that figurine, or re-tell the story to family members when they drop in to visit our home.

Intermission

Can it really be two months since I jotted down some thoughts on this blog? I looked back, and sure enough, I stopped writing, volunteering and doing other entertaining things in order to work with an editor on my book that will be coming out this summer....hopefully!

Editing takes concentration and I put my focus on that endeavor. Now I have several days before I begin working with a publisher. That, they tell me, will take another two months, perhaps three. That's what happens when you self-publish.

This respite would have given me a few days to catch up on the messes piling up in my office. Well, that was my plan, but you know the old saying, "the best laid plans".....Those plans went belly-up when I went belly-down with a fall. Now I am nursing a knee that had surgery years ago and am waiting to see if there is any serious damage that may require another surgery. A visit to emergency (of course it happened on a weekend) showed no broken bones. But then, my usually positive husband tells me that ligaments take longer to heal than breaks. Sigh....

What do I get out of this event? I am saying "Hello to much rest and goodbye to my water aerobics, walking and type A personality activities." It is temporary, I keep telling myself. Be patient. Well, what else can I do?

For one thing, I am spending a few moments on this blog before I return to my "sitting with leg up" activity. Sigh again. Sometimes it takes a mishap such as this for folks like me to stay still and catch up on reading, enjoy the daffodils that somehow managed to survive our cold and stormy weather, and reflect on how fortunate I am compared to......you know, the comparison thing really does help. Just watching the news, let alone being aware of many others around me, and I return to gratitude for all I do have in my life.

So, for now, I will enjoy this intermission and soak in the more comtemplative aspects of living. It's about time!