When I was a kid, I’d sometimes complain to my Aunt Essie when someone called me a name. She’d then sing to me:
“Sticks and stones will break our bones but names will never hurt us.”
I guess she was right, because I can’t even remember what anyone called me that would have upset me so much that I’d run home to whine about it.
But later in life as a teenager, it sure felt like being called names hurt.
Getting called any of the following could be devastating:
- Wuss, Wussy, Pussy – Meant you had no guts or couldn’t fight
- Gay, Homo, Fag – In the 80s this was a major slur for any straight guy
- Nerd, Geek – Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, and Elon Musk were not icons back then
By devastating, I mean socially devastating. I was afraid that if the name stuck or I didn’t defend myself, I might never get a date, constantly be harassed or have to fight someone.
I was called all of these (and undoubtedly more behind by back) in high school. Despite how all consuming they felt at the time, none of them turned out to be a big deal.
I came close to a few fistfights, but managed to avoid them. Some of my name callers became friends. Others became people I avoided or ignored. On occasion, I was able to respond with a sarcastic, witty reply that shut them down entirely. But most of the time, I just silently stewed and thought of great responses many hours later.
Fortunately we all grew up.
Aside from being shot the finger by an occasional road-raging commuter, negative name calling has disappeared from my life.
It’s been replaced by nicknames for those who are near and dear to me:
My neighbors
- Ken and Barbie – My good looking millennial neighbors with perfect hair, expensive clothing, and sporty cars.
- Silent Bob – Another neighbor who never says hello unless I do first.
- The Blonds – Silent Bob’s 3 teenage daughters.
- Three Dog Night – A neighbor down the street who has three yapping mutts.
- The Rat Pack – My neighbor who once had a RatPack storage pod in his driveway.
- Sanford and Son – My hoarder neighbor whose yard looks like a dump.
My pets
- Snokel-torka-lorkis, Big Boy, Snuffleluffagus – Ziggy, my first dog (RIP)
- Sergeant, Little Bear – Shorty, my mini poodle (RIP)
- Sarge, Killer, Bean, Pookie, Poopy Doo – Snickers, my 16 lbs chihuahua-weiner dog-jack russel mix
- Brown Brown, Little Brownie, Little Baby – Buster, my cat
- Squinchy, Tiger, Fatty Boombalatty – Lilly, my other cat
My Family
- Babe, Baby, El – Ellen, my wife
- Kiddo, Redhead Pee the Bed – Zack, my stepson
What I’ve Been Nicknamed
- Steven Turtle Ainslie – By my sister because I ate slowly, ran slowly and got dressed slowly
- Big Head Steve – By my friends because I have a large cranium
- Football Helmet Head – By my wife for my large cranium
- Irk – By my high school classmates because I used this word once and they thought it was hilarious
- Professor, Computer Scientist – Middle school, because I was smart
- Stever – by my step son
- Steverino – by my grandfather
- Babe– by my wife
- Stavo, Stab – by my first boss, who said this was Italian or Polish for Steve
Thinking about this makes me understand that teasing and nicknames not only “never hurt us”, but can actually bring us closer together.
With all the name-calling, baiting and goading going on in the press, in politics and online today, maybe we should all pause for a minute and remember we’re no longer in high school.
If someone calls us a name today, it’s really most likely no big deal. We can probably just ignore them.
And the next time we’re tempted to call someone a name, maybe we should be quiet.
We might even make a few new friends.
Imagine that.
Until next time,
Big Head Steve