The other day my stepdaughter told her mom that she was going to Amanda’s house for a sleepover. “Which Amanda?” I asked. She has six Amanda friends. Her other eighteen friends are Ashley, Alicia and Melissa. She does have one friend named Mary. Mary is obviously the product of radical parents. The other girls must tease her terribly.

I can’t always remember the ten or so male friends she has. But when any of them are at our house I call them Josh, Jason, Justin, Brandon. That covers the whole field. It seems today’s parents are a bit short on imagination. When I was young, first names varied greatly and usually reflected ethnic backgrounds (i.e. Patrick, Anthony, Maria, Pauline).

Truth be known, our first names were pretty irrelevant. That’s because we had nicknames. Anyone who has a nickname knows it defines who you are. You take nicknames to the grave with you. You’re shopping at Warwick Mall with your grandkids when someone yells out “Hey Stretch”. You whip around, knowing the voice can only be ‘Duke’ or ‘Mugs’. At that moment you’re immediately back in the elementary school playground.

We had great nicknames in my day. One kid, for reasons known only to his parents, was named Adolf. Now this was not the most popular moniker in post WWII playgrounds. We nicknamed him Butch. Butch was not to be confused with Butchie, a boy with the misfortune of being baptized Lionel. The obvious nickname for him -‘Train’- apparently escaped us.

I also have a problem telling one teenager from another. I couldn’t figure out why. Then it dawned on me – they all look alike. No ‘buck teeth’, crooked noses, protruding ears or ‘lazy eye’. Not so in my neighborhood, circa 1960. Which gets me back to nicknames.

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Most kids in the neighborhood earned nicknames based on physical traits similar to familiar animals or characters. Two brothers, each with an overbite like the dentition of well known herbivores, were aptly nicknamed Beaver and Rabbit. Now Beaver and Rabbit had an older brother with an overbite overshadowed only by his large nose and ears. The poor bastard has spent years answering to Mr. Potato Head. Kids are, if nothing else, brutal.

Now Denise had ‘lazy eye’ that required her wearing an eye patch through the fifth grade. Unfortunately for Denise, Treasure Island was a popular movie at the time. She is forever remembered in Miss Brady’s class as ‘Long John’.

The first sixth grade girl to start developing was nicknamed ‘Lumps’. All the boys liked the lumps but didn’t know why. The young lady did know why . . . and never had to carry her books home again.

My friend Melvin hated his name. He was small in stature so the bigger kids anointed him ‘Mouse’. He hated that name as much as Melvin. In high school girls thought Mouse’s small features made him “cute”. Mouse ‘got lucky’ with girls many more times than the bigger guys.

One kid in school had no adult teeth. His baby teeth fell out and the void was never filled. His big teeth either never dropped or weren’t there to begin with. We called him ‘Animal’. He liked the name. Having no teeth, he was not very popular with the girls. Getting a nickname meant he belonged. To not be worthy of a nickname was a dreadful social fate.

Most nicknames were assigned at an early age. On rare occasions post puberty labels were given. Steve got the nickname “Twitchy” because he shook and stammered when talking to the opposite sex. We figured he’d end up spending his honeymoon in the emergency room. But apparently his convulsive gyrations were, if nothing else, well directed. He and ‘Long John’ are the proud parents of seven children – and they’re not even Roman Catholic.

“Twitchy” was the one kid who actually begged us to change or drop his nickname. Imagine asking mercy from teenagers! You know, the age group that plays out ‘Lord of the Flies’ for real everyday in middle school hallways and lunch rooms.

I was not spared from Nature’s apparent need to assign distinct physical traits that lend themselves to uniqueness. With ears that stuck out like wings on a hang glider I was soon dubbed ‘Dumbo’ as my appropriate tag. God how I hated that Disney elephant. Each time I saw the cartoon I was reminded of my need to wear a toke during windy Winter days where the threat that I’d become airborne grew greater with each gust.

It’s not that our parents were insensitive to their children’s physical quirks. These were blue collar folks wrestling with a tight monthly budget that provided only for essentials. To echo a friend “My dad never spent a dime on anything he couldn’t eat”. To ask your parents for cosmetic surgery made as much sense as chewing on a razor blade. My father would have responded “What’d you fall and hit your head?” My friend Tony had a pronounced nose, owing to his heritage. His request for a nose job went like this.

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“Dad my nose is too big.”

“You got a Rafanelli nose, like your uncles . . . . . and aunts.”

“But kids tease me.”

“They’re jealous, they wish they had such a nose. You want me to tell your mother you’re ashamed of your nose? The woman who carried you for nine months? The woman who suffered twenty two hours in ‘hard’ labor to give you life?”

“But if it was just a little smaller, that’d be great.”

“What are you, Robert Redford? You got a nose like the great Roman Emperors. You ever see the bust of Julius Caesar?”

“Yeah. Speaking of busts, Maria wants to talk to Mom.”

“Tell your sister she’s only eleven . . . . . give ‘em time. Besides, she doesn’t want to be like her Aunt Anita. The poor thing walked around the school for years being called ‘Lumps’.”

Say what you will, but the kids of my generation had distinct identity, reflected in their nicknames. Our physical quirks fostered individualism. Mr. Potato Head, Dumbo or Beaver could never be mistaken for each other. Granted, our thirtieth high school reunion could be mistaken for a Keith Richards look alike contest. But hey, such is the price paid for character.

About the author, J. Elijah Bray: J. Elijah Bray (probably not his real name) lives on The East Side but is most proud of being raised in Oakland Beach – go figure.

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