What's In A Name

I was a teenager and in my early twenties during the scintillating seventies. What an era to be alive and as well as an African American. We had James Brown telling us to say it loud, I'm Black and I'm Proud. Afros ruled the day, large ones, small ones and Afro puffs. The fellas all had their cans of Afro Sheen to keep those fros looking good. The dress code consisted of platform shoes, mini-skirts, and bell bottom pants, and I was definetely in the mix like everyone else that I knew.

If I have one regard in life it was that I didn't have a nickname within my family structure. My friends had all kinds of cute nicknames when I was growing up, Peaches, Cookie, Ginger, Honey, Neesey, and I was simply Michelle, not Mickey or Shelly, just conservation sounding Michelle. My childhood minister called me Moose, and I never figures that one out and cringed sometimes when he called me that in front of my friends. One of my favorite uncle's called me Shelly but my other family members never picked up on calling me that.

Almost everyone I knew had a shortened version of their name with that coveted y or ie at the ends of their first names, like Patty, Jenny, CeCe, and the likes thereof.

Finally when when I became an adult, my friends bestowed nicknames upon me, like Mickey, and Meesh and I felt like I'd finally arrived.

Mickey was short for Michelle back in the day, most women spell Mickey, Micki now. And Shelly has replaced Mickey for the short version of Michelle. I love for my nieces and nephews to call me Auntie Chelle, I might not have that y or ie at the end of my first name but it sure beats being called Auntie Michelle.