My given name is Laurie (rhymes with "sorry", technically) to most
people, much to the horror of the priest who baptized me and my third
grade teacher Sister Patricia because although I was not named after a
Partridge Family character it's still not a saint's name so basically
to them I was Laurence. It's "Yo" and "hey" and increasingly, horribly,
"Ma'am" to many more. Some people in a far off land I occasionally
inhabit call me "Professor," that is when they're not calling me "Yo."
Go ahead. Laugh. I do.

And some people call me lauriewrites. It's like I told them to or something. 

Speaking more personally, my name was switched up to Lou Ann by my
grandmother who was the only person ever allowed to call me that or who would likely have a reason to. I was called "baby" almost exclusively for years by a man I'd kind of still like to kick in the knees on the rare occasion that I wear closed toe shoes, to the point that I rarely remember him saying my name. My cousin sticks with my name but called me LaLa for years because that was all she could say when we started out talking and it still comes out sometimes as a joke or an aside. I am ever Laurie Anne to my uncles and aunts and LDub - my personal current favorite - to a few of my closest colleague friends at work, who all have shortened versions of their names from me as well.

What do the people who love you call you? What do you call the people you love, and I'm only talking about the nice things, not the mad things. 

Keep that in the back of your mind, while I spin out and remind you that Michael Jackson died this summer. And although it was and remains a weird spectacle of family strife and drugs and nannies and Jermaine hosting benefits with Shawn King, wife of Larry, I still only care because in addition to the fact that I was a 70s and 80s kid and Michael Jackson died, as in permanently, I was and remain straight up fascinated that his youngest child, Prince Michael II, is called Blanket, both allegedly within his family and in the news media. 

Blanket. Prince Michael Jackson II aka Blanket Jackson, so named because of the blanket his father used to put over his head when he had to go out in public. (And yes, weird things frequently fascinate me.) 

At first I thought Michael was turning the media idiocy on its head and making friends with the enemy, as in "Make me feel like I have to hide my kid under a blanket and I'll show you. That's what I'll call him. I'm owning this one, bitches."

But maybe not, because I read on several marginally reliable sites (WikiHow? What?) that Michael allegedly said this: "It's an expression I use with my family and my employees. I say, 'You should blanket me or you should blanket her', meaning like a blanket is a blessing. It's a way of showing love and caring."

Which is probably the truth, although I'm not sure. Doesn't that sound like it would be the truth, though? Because look who we're talking about here. And whether it's true or not, what is true is that if Blanket's family wanted to call him Blanket, that was kind of up to them.

Names are important. Names matter, and I am unusually interested in
them. Your name is how the world knows you and to some extent it's how you have to know yourself so you can do important things like endorse checks and get driver's licenses and fly on planes and pick up carryout orders. (Although for that? That last thing? Making up names is a small creative exercise if you're bored.)

Nicknames are important too - terms of endearment, shortenings of given names or inclusions of middle names in the interest of familiarity, affection, or maybe just laziness if someone's name issuper long and a couple of initials will do the trick just fine. 

Although Blanket sounds as really, really random as I really believe it is, things that are not actually names do indeed become people's names. People get called HalfPint and Homeslice and Scooter and Puddin and Tootie and Pookie (Seriously. The last two have turned into everyday names for cousins of mine who were never called Mary Jo or Dorothea unless they were in some serious trouble, I'd bet.)

My grandmother's name was Marie Louise but as is often the case with siblings her brother and sister called her Sissy and she was Sis to everyone in her life for 80 years (80!) except official business types. And it was weird when she moved into long-term care facilities and the myriad nurses and social workers and aides switched her back into a Marie in her last years, when she was always a Sis. She shared her name with her mother, also a Marie Louise in an unusual female senior/junior kind of situation.

My grandmother, tall and silver-haired, no-nonsense and obsessed with yard work and taking care of children, looked like a Sis, as I often believe people turn into a reflection of their names, as they come to look like how we know them, as they come to look like themselves. Sis looked better Magic Markered on a bowling bag, or on the underside of a Tupperware container at church. It made sense. Marie was her big girl clothes, her high heels, as pretty a name as it is. Sis and still sometimes Sissy were her everyday kicks. They fit better. 

Come to think of it, my mother's mother called her Sister too, the middle girl with three brothers, although my Southern Virginia-influenced  Grandma said "Sista." I have a little sister so it's surprising that I didn't fall in the same line. 

To be clear, all of this in no way means that if your brother calls you Jackass you should embrace it. Bad, unrequested nicknames are terrible and can and should be summarily rejected. There are exceptions to every warm and fuzzy rule, because there are people who will call their brother Jackass, even without provocation, and these people ruin good times and still send e-mail chain letters too. 

Laurie is what I need to get things done and answer questions and get my paycheck, that sort of thing. But LDub makes me smile, just like Laurie Anne pulls me back to the center of gravity when I'm with my family. I couldn't have predicted this when I started out, because as planned and protracted as formal name choices are for parents, the very best nicknames are organic. We earn them. They come about in everyday back and forth with people who usually see the most of us and know us the best and who therefore see us at our best and worst.

I gave Lou Ann back earlier this year. No one will ever call me that again and really that's for the best because no one could rock that less than awkwardly except my grandma. So I put it in my archive and know that someone loved me enough to make it up while we were hanging out around the house when I was a baby. That's gold. You keep that stuff forever, and take it out when everything else feels particularly underwhelming and it should help at least a little. 

I'll stop myself from thinking that his name may be the least of his concerns and say anyway that I don't know if Blanket will stay Blanket or even Prince or go the Zowie Bowie route (also? Not a nickname. Totally on purpose.) and switch himself up to Tom or Bill or, more appropriately, Mike. His life - and the people in it - will help figure that out for him.

Nicknamey Stuff Around the Web: 

I am (now) openly blog-stalking Disnazzio who is a new find for me and conveniently happens to be writing more lately. I Just Wanted to be Sure of You, a post about her friend Bucko and why their mutual nickname has a lot to do with their relationship, made me cry tears of relatedness. It's quite beautiful. 

 Jess at Du Wax Loo Lu likes the options for nicknames in her own name and is thinking about how to handle naming her children.

If you're feeling neglected, name yourself. Shaquille O'Neal does. Shaq Fu? Shaqquie Robinson? Go for it. 

Joanna Goddard talks terms of endearment specifically on A Cup of Jo. 

Victoria at Victoria is Only a Wee Bit Crazy gives people nicknames so she'll remember who they are. No kidding.  I'm trying desperately not to wonder if anyone has ever done this to me because it's so not about me. I may be failing. 

My favorite online Half-Pint tweets Laura Ingalls Wilder-style.  

Family and Photography Contributing Editor Laurie White writes at LaurieWrites and shares this post in honor of the best kind of happy accidents.