Remember when…? – Nickname

 

As some of you might know, my first name is Carole. Unlike other names, there isn’t an obvious nickname associated with it. It is not like Robert that becomes Bob, or Stephanie that can be shortened to Steph. My mom always disliked nicknames so she chose my name so it was not automatic. Yet, one neighbour found one for me.

Casserole

Although it is definitely not a shortening of my name, that neighbour used to call me “Casserole” (which is French for a cooking pot). It annoyed me but i came to live with it. He was the only one calling me like that, and since i was not necessarily meeting him every day, it was ok.

Why?

Considering that “Casserole” was the name for an object, it puzzled me why he picked that word to nickname me. So one day, i asked him: “Why do you call me ‘Casserole’?” His answer was the most unexpected one: “Because i cannot say ‘Carole’.” WHAT??? But you just said it!!

Finally

I think that it was not long after he told me that he could not say my name, that he stopped using that nickname for me.

How about you? Did you have a nickname when you were kids (or maybe still have one)? Any nickname that you liked or disliked? Would you remember about a relative or a friend who had a particular nickname? Share your story about them. It can be a long or a short story, but we are all curious!

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11 thoughts on “Remember when…? – Nickname”

  1. My mom named me Linda, thinking there was no nickname for it, but some people call my Lyn! Growing up my last name was Fry! That was the problem I had. Kids would call me fry pan or french fry and I would do my best to ignore them. I was also short and one person would always call me peanut. I didn’t mind peanut as much as I disliked fry pan!

  2. I’ve discouraged nicknames being made of my name (I particularly hate “Di” as an abbreviation–you can imagine how uphill a battle that was when Lady Di was popular) but I do have an early history of changing cats’ names. My brother gave an orange kitten the name of Ambrosia, which was impossible for my younger self to say so I changed it to “Bambi.” Her father Rhubarb became “Ba-roo.” I don’t know why one version seemed easier to say than the original. My brother changed my malta-poo’s name of Whimsey to “Whimmel,” which I don’t think means anything but sounded a little tougher, perhaps, and fit a surprisingly aggressively nature (she was an adorable apricot mix but needed to be approached with care). My dad used to call me “Susie Q” but he called every young female (human and non-human) that so it was not a special nickname. Why “Susie Q”? I have no idea.

  3. Like Carole I didn’t think Marlene could be shortened but Aussies are good at doing it and I am Marls or Mars to a few people. As a child I was often Tich or Littl’un, being the youngest, but I gained a different nickname when on holiday at a Great Aunt’s. Aunt Dora was a widow with no children, but I liked going to stay with her as I was good at making my own entertainment. One holiday I was keen on playing cowboys and Indians (I was always a tomboy) and I plagued her next-door-neighbour to make me a rifle out of wood – from that day on I was always Davy Crocket to him.

  4. I’ve always had the opposite of a nickname. People are always asking me what my “real” name is. In other words, they think “Kristie” is short for something. No, that is my REAL name.

  5. I was named after my Dad’s cousin. Later, much later, my Dad found out my name was HER nickname! Yep, he thought Yobeth was her name but it was actually a combination of her 2 names Yolanda & Elizabeth. Growing up my brothers really got in trouble if they called me anything else.
    When I was in my 20’s a co-worker tagged me Spiffy. Technically, that’s the only nickname I’ve ever had, well except for being named a nickname! LOL!

  6. My first name is Jennifer. My family and childhood friends called/call me Jenny most of the time but also Jen. In college and afterward, I was mostly Jen. Nothing too surprising or interesting in any of that, but then there was my last name.

    Growing up, my last name was Funk. You can imagine what that yielded.

    How funky is your chicken? How loose is your goose?

    Won’t you take me down to Funkytown.

    Funk you.

    This could have been a problem for some kids, but it never was for me. I wore the name proudly and most people manipulated it in playful, positive ways that I found pleasing. When it was used in a negative way, as in “I’m in a funk” (down or depressed) or “What’s that funky (bad) smell?” my response was, “Thou shalt not take my name in vain!”

    I’ve always liked my Funky name.

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