My parents almost named me Danny Lee. I’m glad they didn’t. It’s a perfectly good name, and if that’s yours, good for you. No offense, but it’s just not for me.
My mom said Danny Lee was really the only name that my father and she discussed. They also decided there would be no nicknames. I would be Danny Lee. Period.
My mom probably opted for the name, and the subsequent “no nickname” policy, because of her Kentucky birthright. She came from the land of James William, Billy Joe, Nora Jean, Lela Fae, and John Henry. You get the picture. No nicknames – just the full moniker.
My grandparents used full names when speaking to their children. My mom was Katherine and that’s how Grandma Barner addressed her. My cousins called her Aunt Kay. After Grandma passed, Grandpa used “Kay or Kate” from time to time
Grandma and Grandpa had four other children. Ruth was Ruth. Harry was Harry. Eugenia was the third in a string of three daughters. Mildred was born after Harry which made her the baby of the family. While my grandparents spoke of Eugenia and Mildred, I called them Aunt Jean and Aunt Millie. I believe that formality in names is primarily a southern thing.
The closest thing to a nickname that my grandmother ever used was “Harrison”. My grandfather’s given name was Carter Harrison. She shortened it. I never heard anyone refer to him as Carter, and she was always “Margaret”.
When it came time to place a name on my birth certificate, Mom and Dad had a change of heart. I became Robert Allen. If they told me where the name came from, I’ve forgotten. I was just thankful that they bailed on Danny Lee.
Mom also dropped the full moniker requirement. I was Robbie. That was my name through the first twelve years of my life. My parents, sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles, friends, classmates, teachers, etc. all addressed me as Robbie. If they wished to cut it short, I was Rob.
The only time I heard “Robert Allen” was when my mom got mad at me. That didn’t happen very often, but it was an effective corrective device.
If we met before I headed to Clara Barton Junior High you probably call me Rob. Mrs. Walters was my seventh grade English teacher. I also had her for homeroom. Clara Barton was a melting pot. Several elementary schools funneled their sixth graders into the pot. I saw it as an opportunity to reinvent myself. The first time Mrs. Walters called roll I corrected her “Robert Tebo”. “Please call me Bob.” She did. A whole new person was born at that moment.
I thought “Bob” sounded more grown up than “Robbie”. I had a fellow Roby at Lincoln Elementary. “Roby” Smith became “Rob” in seventh grade. He made the wiser choice. If I had it to do over again, I’d be Rob. I’ve met hundreds of Bobs over the years and only a few Robs. The Robs I’ve met are all more “grown up” than any of the Bobs.
Gary Moore hosted CBS’s weekly prime-time TV panel show I’ve Got a Secret. It premiered on June 19, 1952 and he hosted the show until 1964. The premise was simple. Individuals introduced themselves during the show’s opening and announced “I’ve Got a Secret”. A panel of celebrity judges asked a series of questions to the “secret holder” and, ultimately, tried to guess the secret.
About the time I changed my name, my mom submitted what she thought was a good secret to the show for possible airing. My initials spelled R.A.T. and she believed that people would enjoy seeing me and hearing my secret on television. I think she was having a difficult time with my switch to “Bob” and wanted to prove to me that I had made a poor decision.
My secret never aired. The folks in charge of selecting secrets opted for another Detroit area personality. Upon reflection, they probably made a wise choice.
What do you think?